Dragon's Dogma: Trials of a Pawn
by Sushifox
Summary: "Grigori has descended upon Gransys once more. In his wake flock hordes of monsters, unthinkable ruin...and the most horrifying beast in existence for us spirits. With Grigori comes the Arisen." The adventures and misadventures of a newly born Arisen, told from the not so loving POV of his main pawn. Sarcasm and failure abound as the Arisen struggles to fulfill his destiny.
1. Cassardis

**Prologue**

The Everturning Wheel. A malicious game hosted by gods and demons, with the mortal realm at its mercy. With the world itself at the center, the Wheel was a whirlpool that dragged all existences into its clutches and forced them to serve as pieces on its board.

This "game," designed by the Maker, was simple. A never-ending loop in time, starting with chaos and ending in an apocalypse; a game that sentenced those who live in the world to suffer their annihilation for all eternity.

At the head of the wheel, the Maker chained the Seneschal, the benevolent god whose duty had been to watch over the mortal realm. Before the conception of the game, the Seneschal had grown to love the mortal realm and its inhabitants too much. He had interfered constantly in the mortal's lives and granted them whatever their hearts desired and, in time, they came to rely on the Seneschal. Because they no longer needed to struggle, the mortals had lost their need to fight for their survival, and the fire that drove them to progress against all odds was quenched. For what sane person would willingly submit themselves to discomfort and conflict, especially when they could simply wish it away? This angered the Maker.

To the Maker, who had created the world to function independent of any god, this was blasphemy, a crime that was unacceptable. As punishment for the Seneschal's meddling, the Maker entrapped the mortals in the Everturning Wheel. The Seneschal could do naught but watch in horror as the world was subjected to hellish torture. He was told by the Maker that only he could find the way to break the cycle and, with no other choice, he took his place at the head of the Wheel, forced by circumstance into the role of its most influential player. He tried with little success to break the Wheel by force. Then by cunning. But the only results he obtained were failure.

And fail he did. Again, and again, and again. The only solace that the Seneschal could offer the unwitting mortals, participants of a game that they could not escape, was that he was able to reset the memories of they who suffered alongside him. But he could not ease his own anguish. While the mortals stayed ignorant, free of any knowledge of their eternal torment and damnation, the Seneschal found no such freedom. Even were he to turn his back on them, his godly connection with the realm would cause him to always have an awareness of its suffering. Bound to the game as a king to his kingdom, he bore witness to the destruction of all he loved.

Even a god can feel, and eventually the burden became too much for the Seneschal. During the brief, quiet moments between the end of the world and its inevitable reincarnation, when the Seneschal was given time to evaluate his failures, there would come whispers that flowed through his mind. They would judge him, laughing gleefully at his pain, but they would also offer him a solution.

Give up. Give in. Let the Maker win and beg for his forgiveness and mercy, let the world suffer, or, better yet, let it be destroyed. Removed from existence, removed from his sight forever. At least then he could try to ignore the screams of those he had failed that echoed constantly through his mind.

After thousands- millions- of attempts to save the realm, he finally broke, and from his ensuing madness was born the Dragon. A beast created by the Seneschal to save him from his torment at any cost. Filled with all the fury of an insane god, the Dragon descended upon the mortal realm as the harbinger of the Apocalypse. It destroyed, rampaged, and sought to wipe the world from existence permanently. With nothing to watch over, nothing to see destroyed, the Seneschal would be freed.

The Dragon's efforts were in vain. It could not stop the Wheel, and the timeline simply reversed itself each time the world was destroyed. All the strength of the Dragon, all the strength of the Seneschal proven helpless beneath the power of the Almighty, of the Maker. The Dragon could do nothing but despair at its failure to free the Seneschal.

But it could not give up, for only it could save its master. Seeking a different solution, the Dragon instead decided to recruit the mortals the Seneschal had watched over and protected for so long. It issued a challenge to the heroes of man, a test to find mortals with the strength to help it. The Dragon would attack the kingdoms of the world, threatening to crush all that mankind had struggled to build. While most mortals fled from the Dragon, hoping to survive by pitifully hiding, a select few chose instead to approach the Dragon in hopes of protecting their world.

To the Dragon's dismay, none of these champions held the strength of will and body the Dragon sought. Without sufficient power it would be impossible for these humans to save the Dragon's master.

So, the Dragon gave these heroes a test. It tore the hearts from their breasts and cast a powerful spell upon their bodies. They were revived, given ability beyond that of their fellow mortals, and bestowed a new title; Arisen.

Stripped of their humanity, these newly raised champions were to seek the Dragon, confront it in a battle of strength, wit, and courage, and reclaim their stolen hearts. Only through this could they prove their worth and gain back their humanity, and, in doing so, prove their ability to save the Seneschal from his torment.

The challenge proved to be too difficult for the Arisen. They failed to grow their power, all falling short and perishing before they could reach the Dragon. The creatures that roamed the world were monstrously powerful, easily capable of overwhelming entire armies of men. Even with their new abilities, it was too much to expect the Arisen to vanquish these beasts alone.

And so the Dragon gave the next Arisen a second power; they would be able to summon a single spirit to serve and assist them along their journey. These spirits, kidnapped from their peaceful existence outside the circle of life and death, were given human form and bound to the world of mortals. They became known as pawns, beings caught between the mortal and spirit realms. By the Dragon's curse the pawns were linked to the Arisen and forced into a magical contract. If the pawns could successfully guide their Arisen to the end of the challenge, the pawn would be given the chance to become truly human.

For pawns, originally beings of a different realm, did not possess souls of their own. Without a soul, pawns could not feel human emotion, and without emotion it was impossible for them to truly live. Now trapped in the mortal realm, the pawns had no choice but to accept their quest.

The new generation of Arisen, now with the pawns at their sides, ventured forth only to fail still. Even with the pawns' assistance they would perish along their journey, or fall to cowardice when the time came to challenge the Dragon. In desperation, the Dragon chose Arisen from ever more obscure places. Old or young, frail of body or of mind, the Dragon went to even the smallest of villages and marked any with the courage to stand before him.

It was at one of these towns that the Dragon found Kang, a man who would break every convention and precedent set by those who came before him. The one who would become the most powerful Arisen to ever exist. The mortal-turned-god who would achieve what not even the Maker believed to be possible.

Kang. The One True Arisen. The Hero of Gransys. The Champion of Pawns. He who stopped the Everturning Wheel.

The man who gave me first my existence, then my soul.

The man who was my master.

* * *

**Day 1: Summoning**

Some spirits take interest in the mortal realm. With all the chaos that occurs every day in the lives of mortals, it strikes a vibrant contrast to the tranquility of the spirit realm. To those spirits who are dissatisfied with our existence here, the mortal realm possesses a certain appeal. Many spirits even go so far as to wish for a life as a mortal, following the happenings of the mortal realm in hopes that they may someday have the right to belong there.

Understandably, these spirits jump at the chance to gain a true place in the mortal realm each time a new Arisen is chosen. They flood the riftstones, a space between the spirit and mortal realms, in hopes that they might be selected to be born into the mortal realm as a pawn.

I am not one of those spirits.

In fact, I quite like the peace and never changing stability of the spirit realm. Never have I felt the desire to experience existence from a mortal perspective. My presence at the riftstone this day is pure chance.

Because of this, when I first feel the pull of the Pawnspell I resist desperately, praying against all odds that the spell will pass by and select another. That I shall not be kidnapped on this day, ripped from my peaceful existence and forced into subservience against my will. That I may be allowed to remain drifting through the spirit realm without the burden of emotions that comes hand in hand with becoming a Pawn- but the gods of chance ignore my pleas. I am selected to aid this new Arisen in his quest to conquer the Dragon, reclaim his heart and humanity, and set peace to his kingdom.

The particles of my body coalesce slowly, as though unwilling to face the hardships to come at the hands of yet another "chosen one". My struggle bears no fruit, for no matter how I attempt to delay, my summoning is inevitable. A warm trickle of life blossoms from the portion of my new master's soul being infused into my vessel. Information and mortal instincts flood my being in a dizzying rush and everything that I was takes a new form to become… me.

With my eyes still shut I take my first breath, feeling the rush of air flowing through my body. I can feel a slight breeze carrying the scent of the sea, can hear the cries of birds- seagulls, my mind supplies. From the muted sound of their screeching I can tell that we are indoors, the breeze coming from opened windows.

I can not help but feel a strange sense of disconnect at how my knowledge of this place far exceeds my experience here.

"Er… did I screw up something, Rook? She's not opening her eyes," says a cheerful voice from directly in front of me. The man speaking, most probably my new master, seems slightly nervous at my less than enthusiastic arrival to this world.

I decide to let him suffer a moment longer. Perhaps he will send me back and choose another to take my place.

"Most probably she is simply overwhelmed, Master." The man named Rook responds from a short distance away. "The summoning spell bestows all of your knowledge to her- it makes us Pawns useful as soon as we enter this world. Of course, processing such a large volume of information can be quite stressful."

"All of my knowledge? That could be a bit embarrassing," mutters my new master.

"Worry not, Master. She merely inherits the information, not the memories associated with the knowledge."

"Well that's a relief."

I can hear my new master approaching me with light footsteps. My eyes stay squeezed shut, the hope that he will send me back still present.

"Hey, hey, hey," he says, lightly poking my cheek with his finger. "You awake?"

With a sigh, I finally release my vain hope of escape and open my eyes. My first sight is a curious face mere centimeters from my own- the man's friendly, blue-grey eyes staring into mine as his breath tickles my nose.

"Hey babe," he says with a wink and a grin, maintaining his proximity to me.

I slam my fist into his chin on instinct, teaching him a valuable lesson on the meaning of personal space.

"Well that was unexpected," chuckles a tall woman to my left. "Are you quite alright Master?"

My master looks up at me from his sprawled out position on the wooden floor, still grinning widely.

"Nice punch!" he says with a laugh. I find myself slightly unnerved by his distinct lack of a reaction to being hit, as though he is completely accustomed to being suddenly attacked by women he has just met.

He jumps up and leans toward me, peering at my face interestedly. Either he is not very bright or he is completely oblivious to the displeasure of others. Neither bodes well for his- for our- upcoming journey.

"Hey, hey, you're pretty cute, exactly like I hoped you would be when Rook over here told me I could summon a _personal_ pawn!" He exclaims, nodding his head at the rather exhausted looking man standing a few feet away from us. "Name's Kang, by the way. What might your name be, beautiful?"

I tell him my name is his to choose, for I have no name I currently associate with my being. Names have no meaning to spirits. In the spiritual realm we did little else but simply drift through the emptiness or watch the outside world.

"If you say so. Then... I'll call you Reina!" My master straightens to his full height with a satisfied nod, towering above me and brushing the dirt from his clothes and black ponytail. He had apparently been leaning quite far over to look into my eyes, as he appears to be extremely tall. I tilt my head back, hiding my surprise at his height as he continues to speak; "You know, you look exactly like I was hoping you would! Strange coincidence, don't you think?"

It is not a coincidence. Just as I have no name, I also have no predetermined physical form- I come into existence with whatever form my master so imagines. Nothing is predetermined, not even my gender. While my new body is female, I could have easily materialized as a male had it so been desired. We pawns are created based upon the form desired by our Arisen- the stronger the picture, the closer the pawn will be to the imagined form.

I stride toward the mirror hanging on the wall of the inn, hoping my new master has better taste than the previous Arisen I had observed from within the spirit realm. That particular man had summoned his poor pawn as a seven foot tall bear-woman with the facial features of an ogre, and I feel that having such a hideous appearance would be decidedly unpleasant. After all, now that my spirit has taken this form for the rest of my mortal existence, I would hope to at least be attractive.

One look into the mirror puts me in shock. From inside the mirror gaze back a pair of large, soft, grey eyes set upon a pixie-like face. Shoulder length, brown hair frames this head, set upon a body which precisely matches the fae visage- with one exception. The curvature of the figure seems just barely within the limits of what is believable on such a petite body. While I am definitely not ugly, I still find myself horrified at the sheer lack of practicality of my new form. In other words, this body puts cute looks and feminine curves as the top priority at the expense of combat functionality. With this form I shall be near useless both in combat and as the carrier of equipment. My new master is, quite unbelievably, even more dense than I had feared.

Through gritted teeth, I quietly accept the much too large bow and quiver Master hands me and quickly put on the armor he has provided. Armor, in this case, referring to something akin to leather underwear matched with a pair of boots and fingerless gloves. Shivers rack my body, the chill of the coastal air sending goosebumps across my bared midriff, shoulders, and thighs. Hopefully Master plans to avoid putting me anywhere near combat, as this outfit seems more at home on an exotic dancer than any kind of warrior.

Perhaps Master is hoping enemies will be too busy throwing money at me to fight back.

I turn to look at the two others of our group, cocking my head to the side. Has my master hired mere mercenaries to assist us in our journey? This could be a problem, as no human could possibly keep up with the challenges we shall need to face. My master steps forward to introduce them, pointing first at the bearded man in robes.

"That old guy is Rook. He's been helping me along ever since my heart got ripped out," my master chuckles. "Throws a mean fireball, but he's pretty cool. Don't worry about the fact that he's wearing a dress, I swear he isn't insane."

"Master, these are robes, not a dress. They assist in the channelling of mana for my spellcasting-"

My master grins and ignores Rook's extensive retort, instead turning and waving toward the tall, armored woman. "She's Sylvie. She's a bit clumsy most of the time, but she's a complete beast when it comes to slaying goblins."

"Greetings, Reina," says the woman with a graceful bow. Her elegance is ruined, unfortunately, by a loud clang as she drops her shield on the floor.

"Er… don't worry, really. I've never seen her drop her shield while fighting, at least," murmurs my master, refusing to meet my glare.

I step in front of my fidgeting master, giving a slight nod and greeting to the two. They face me with welcoming smiles and waves, but a closer look into their eyes gives the feeling that something is missing. Unlike my master, there is no glint in their eye, merely emptiness. In a flash of understanding, I realize that these two are no humans.

They are 'expired'.

For pawns, the existence of their personal Arisen allows them to develop a human soul. Their connection with their true master stimulates this growth, eventually allowing the pawn to become fully human. With the reclaiming of the Arisen's heart comes the completion of the pawn's soul, the reward that allows them to become truly alive.

For those who fail to guide their Arisen to success, there is no such reward.

The expired are the pawns of those Arisen who perished before the completion of their quest- they are only partially complete. They merely wander this world as abnormal existences, unable to find joy in life or die of age. Even death elsewhere can serve as no escape, as the soulless can not pass on to the Everafter. If they perish they are doomed to an eternal torment, losing their minds and wandering the world as wraiths. Many expired seek fulfillment by joining and serving an Arisen that is not their own, but even this will never allow them to become fully human. It will merely give them the chance to save another of our kind from experiencing the same fate.

This, more than anything, is the curse of a Pawn. Without a soul of our own, we cannot age. We cannot feel. We cannot truly live. If the Arisen who creates us perishes before completing his quest and granting us a soul of our own, we have nothing.

Looking at these two, I make a personal resolution that I shall not become one of them. I _will_ succeed in bringing Master to face the Dragon, if only so that I may escape the miserable fate of the expired.

For now, however, I shall try to befriend these two before me. Without their assistance, I doubt Master shall survive the first week.

As Master strides off while whistling, Rook smiles sympathetically at me and silently drapes a short leather cloak around my shoulders. Perhaps sensing that just this cloak will be insufficient to keep back the chill, Sylvie hands me an oil lantern to warm myself. Unfortunately, in the process she somehow trips over her own feet and spills the lantern oil across the wooden floor of the in, much to the intense displeasure of the innkeeper.

This shall be a long, _long_ journey.

* * *

**Day 2: Cassardis**

Bounties ripped from notice boards across Cassardis threaten to spill from my overflowing bag. For what must have been the hundredth time since Master handed me this accursed bag, I am forced to stop walking so I may collect several spilled notices. Perhaps sensing my mounting frustration, Sylvie kneels down beside me, taking the papers from my hands and tucking them into her own bag.

"It is not so bad, Reina. At least our new master is energetic," she says with an encouraging smile.

I suppose energetic could be the word to describe Master, although I admit I have been thinking more along the lines of 'hyperactive'.

This description would not be unwarranted, as Master has decided the best way to form bonds between our ragtag team is to search out and accept every quest he can possibly get his hands on. He refers to this as 'bonding through shared experiences' and 'mutual hardships', but I do not feel that finding runaway cats and rare plants shall bring us any closer together. I force myself to look on the bright side: maybe this shall give me the opportunity to begin curing him of his stupidity.

Before we can leave Cassardis to complete these quests, however, Master has apparently promised assistance to a few of the locals. He seems to be trying to live up to people's expectations of him; perhaps he truly believes that he has become special by having his heart ripped from his chest and consumed by a gargantuan flying reptile.

Although I do suppose that is in and of itself something bordering a miracle. How does the Dragon keep the heart intact when he devours it? Even more important, what exactly is sustaining the life of Master at this time? Unfortunately Master is far better armored than I- by which I mean he actually has clothes- so it is somewhat unlikely I'll be given the opportunity to peek inside his chest when the first goblin we fight cuts at him with its sword.

While I ponder these questions, the rest of our group begins the first of our list of requests- to find the village priest's copy of the Maker's Scriptures that was lost during the Dragon's attack on the village. We climb the long dirt path leading to the chapel and Master calls out to the priest, patting him on the shoulder in greeting.

"Sup' Clem! Don't worry about your fancy book, we'll find it ASAP. Any idea where you might have dropped it?"

"Dropped it?" The priest huffs. "You suggest that I would be so careless as to _drop_ the holy book of the Maker? I did not 'drop' the Scriptures, they vanished from my podium when the Dragon attacked."

"You mean they just disappeared?" Master asks.

"Yes, disappeared. That is what vanished means, does it not?" the priest says, rolling his eyes. "I do not know what could have possibly happened to them."

When I offer the thought that his church may be haunted he gazes at me mournfully, apparently terrified at the thought that ghosts might have taken over his place of worship. Perhaps he should have taken the time to consider his fear of specters when establishing his church alongside a graveyard on top of a lonely seaside cliff.

Master shushes me as Priest Clemente begins violently trembling and his face grows pale. I suspect the candles shall stay lit throughout this night and far into the morrow, judging by the way the priest's eyes dart between the deep shadows of the ceiling's beams.

"So… ghosts, eh Clem? Aren't they the biggest fear among religious folks? I mean, don't you all think that ghosts can steal and consume your soul? I can't think of much that's more terrifying than losing your chance at an afterlife, am I right?"

"Wha-what? Are you insinuating that I am afraid of ghosts?" the priest stammers.

"Insinuating? I would never! No, of course not," Master says cheerfully. "Besides, ghosts aren't so bad! Reina here used to be a ghost, and look at what a cutie she is!"

To be more precise, I used to be a spirit, not a ghost. Ghosts are the remnants of dead humans who are tied to this world by regrets, but I feel no need to point this out to the priest who is slowly edging away from me with fearful eyes. After all, he has been exceptionally unpleasant. Perhaps he shall show greater respect to those he begs for assistance in the future.

"But the church is the only place in the village that the Dragon didn't touch. How did they just disappear if the Dragon never came up here in the first place?" Master says.

"Why would you put this question to me? That's what I brought you here to figure out!" Priest Clemente's shouts, as if trying to cover up his former humiliating display.

"Um, no you didn't. You asked me to come find your scriptures, not figure out why they disappeared," says Master.

Priest Clemente stares at Master for a few seconds in silence, his face taking on a rather unhealthy crimson hue.

"Very well. Then if you would be so kind, I ask of you to find my Scriptures and bring them to me," the priest finally manages to say from between grit teeth.

"Yeah, no problem! So tell me again, where did you drop them?" Master says with a wide grin.

* * *

A few minutes later we leave the church. Leaving, in this case, referring to a hasty exit before the priest falls dead from an aneurysm.

How Master plans on finding the scriptures with no clues toward their location I never get the chance to find out, as mere moments after we exit the church a young man grabs hold of Master's arm and buries his face in Master's chest whilst sobbing uncontrollably.

Several amusing minutes pass before Rook manages to regain control of himself- Silvie and I are still trying desperately to suppress our laughter- and finally steps between the boy and Master, who has been alternating between awkwardly rubbing the boy's shoulder blades and uncomfortably attempting to extract himself from the boy's grip. Rook dries the boy's tears with a cloth we had acquired earlier while raiding some poor fisherman's home, calming the boy down while Master tries to wipe snot off his shoulder with a small pamphlet of bound parchment he pulls out from his bag. He had apparently been unable to find anything more suitable for the job, such as a cloth or rag.

"All is well child, no need to cry. Pray, tell me; what is the cause of thy sorrow?" Rook asks the boy soothingly, rubbing the boy's back.

"I-I lost my father's scr-scriptures when the dragon attacked," the boy chokes out. "I j-just wanted to have a look at them, but I dropped them when I was r-running away. I didn't mean any harm, I didn't!"

"Ah, so that's what you were saying," Master says, scraping off the last of the snot and tossing the paper to the side. "Don't worry so much kid, I'll find it for you. Any clue where you lost it?"

I tune out the rest of the conversation, my eyes drifting out over the sea as I wonder if I can convince my master to let me go lay out in the sun whilst he looks. After all, my clothing is already barely more than a swimsuit, so I would be right at home by the ocean. It isn't until Silvie taps my shoulder and whispers in my ear that I realize we have grossly underestimated the sheer stupidity of Master.

Silvie and I lean over the paper Master had tossed to the side, inspecting the battered, pocket sized, and now snot covered print of the Maker's Scriptures. I gingerly pick it up by the corner, holding it up between Master and the boy and interrupting the boy's claims that he 'started on the beach but couldn't remember where he had run due to how terrified he had been'.

"Th-thats it! That's my father's scriptures! How did you find it so... quickly..." the boy trails off as he notices the sorrowful condition of the pamphlet.

Simultaneously, four people turned to stare disbelievingly at Master, who is gaping at the book in astonishment.

"Wait, _that's_ what we were looking for? I found that on the roof of that building just under this cliff next to two piles of clothes!" Master says, pointing off the side of the cliff. "How the hell did you get on top of the buildings when you were on the beach running from the damned Dragon?"

The boy flushes bright red, muttering something about how 'maybe he hadn't been on the beach after all, and maybe a certain female friend had thought herself possessed by a specter that caused indecent thoughts, and _maybe_ he had told her that he could help her and had borrowed his father's scriptures to help him seem more authentic.'

A few silent seconds pass before the boy bursts into embarrassed tears and takes off running, leaving Master to explain why the scriptures are torn and covered in snot to the decidedly ungrateful Priest Clemente.

* * *

The sky is clear and the sun bright in the sky as we exit the church. Just like Master, the weather finds itself unable to read the mood of our next quest: deliver the news to a man about the death of his brother, Cortese.

The request comes from Elvar, one Cortese's friends who had been saved by Cortese's bravery. Cortese had distracted the Dragon so that his companions could flee, but fell to the Dragon's claw. Elvar blames himself and is unable to face the brother of Cortese, leaving it up to Master to do so in his stead.

We find the brother in town, assisting the healers with changing the dressings of the wounded. At Master's greeting he looks up beseechingly, hoping for some sort of news about the missing Cortese. Master swallows, reaches out and puts his hand on the man's shoulder, takes a deep breath, and delivers the bad news in the most sympathetic way he is capable of.

"Sorry man, your bro got ripped open by the dragon and died."

I cannot help but admire the man's composure in the face of bad news. Rather than taking out his sorrow on the messenger (although in this case it would have been completely warranted) he chokes back his sobs, raises his chin, and speaks bravely with tears brimming from his eyes.

"I-I see. Elvar has suffered in this as well. Cortese made his choice. He faced his end with valor, and died a man- Elvar bears no fault in that. He's no cause to blame himself."

Even I, emotionless as I am, can not help but be at least slightly moved by this man's willingness to forgive and help Elvar. Master, however, is confused.

"Dude, how are you so calm? Your bro died. Like, he got brutally eviscerated by a giant lizard and thrown into the ocean. There's no way you can still be okay after hearing that."

Master of Pawns, yes. Master of Tact... most definitely not.

In the end, Master was forced to relay the news of his "successful" mission back to Elvar, as the brother had thrown a few choice curse words at Master and fled wailing down the cobblestone street.

When Master tells Elvar that the message had been delivered, Elvar looks up sheepishly, as if embarrassed at his own timidity.

"I thank you, cousin. Pray, forgive the trouble my cowardice has placed upon you... might I know, what were his brother's words?" Master pauses to think for a moment before reciting a general translation of the words Cortese's brother had spoken to him.

"He said 'what in the Maker's name is wrong with you'' and then ran down the street crying," Master says, seemingly proud of himself.

I suppose these technically are the brother's words. Not the ones Master was supposed to relay to Elvar, but still the brother's words. Elvar seems shocked at the insult, his face falling and his eyes downcast.

"Yes, he's… he's right. Cortese did not trade his life for mine so I could wallow in idle self-pity. I'll live the best I am able. For his sake. I can only hope that this event has not forever labeled me a coward." The man looks so depressed I almost think about stepping in and correcting Master, but in the end I decide it would be too much trouble. Elvar will recover; perhaps this will allow the man to gain some semblance of pride when next the time comes to fight or to relay condolences to the family of a deceased warrior.

As Elvar shuffles away, slumped over with misery, I realize this situation could have been resolved with far less pain had Master been omitted from the process entirely. Perhaps I should convince Master to refrain from "helping" other people. Not only would I spare many innocent people from intense mental trauma, it would also spare me the humiliation of admitting to others that this imbecile is my master.

Even Master seems affected by Elvar's obvious distress, a slight frown appearing on his face as he watches the man's departure. He decides to end our work for the day, leading the way back to his home while lost in thought. As soon as we walk through the door, Master strides into the main room and collapses into a chair with a sigh.

"Man, I feel like I did something wrong there," he says, oblivious to the incredulous looks Rook, Sylvie, and I are giving him.

Something? Everything. You did everything wrong.

Perhaps sensing what I am about to say, Rook cuts me off with a loud, pointed clearing of his throat and steps forward to lay his hand on Master's shoulder.

"I am certain that you will improve with time," says Rook hesitantly. Not even he, the most dutiful of us three Pawns, can bring himself to say that Master had done nothing wrong. "You may just think of today as a learning experience?"

"Yeah. Yeah, I should just do that. Thanks Rook," Master says with another deep sigh. "I think I'm gonna hit the sack. You guys should get some rest too, tomorrow we're going searching for flowers."

With that, Master retreats into one of the bedrooms, leaving the three of us to wonder what connection finding a bunch of flowers could possibly have to finding and slaying a dragon.

* * *

A few hours later I finally fall asleep to the crackling of the fire, still pondering the likelihood that Master will allow me to lay out at the beach tomorrow while he searches for flowers.

After all, how difficult can picking a flower possibly be?


	2. Of Merchants and Moonglow

**Day 3: Of Merchants and Moonglow**

I stand corrected. The answer to my question from the previous night; finding a flower is simple, unless you find yourself stuck following an imbecile who cannot tell the difference between a flower and a potato.

Of course, at this point I can barely tell the difference between Master and a potato, so I suppose it is not my place to judge.

Our first outing from Cassardis comes under the light of the moon. The sun has set several hours past while Master searched the town for Sunbright, the first of two medicinal flowers needed by the village healer. The second flower, Moonglow, can only be found at night. (I had believed this to be easy enough to understand from the name alone, but master had searched the shoreline during the day for nearly two hours before realizing this important fact.)

Master's attempts to gather information on this elusive flower earlier (where he had forgone the efficient method of seeking out the herbalist's supplier and instead spoke to every person in the village _except_ the only person who collects it on a regular basis) had unsurprisingly turned up little concrete information other than the fact that it grows at night and glows.

I sincerely wished to strangle Master when he looked genuinely surprised by this.

Due to the headache I have from our previous quests around Cassardis, I wish only to find the Moonglow as quickly as possible so that I may return to Master's home and rest. Unfortunately, there is a reason besides Master's incompetence that prevents us from quickly searching out the flower.

"Ah, hold for a moment, I beg of you! I do believe I spy gold over there," the well-endowed woman behind us cries out for the fourth time in the few minutes since we passed through the village gates. She skips gaily over to a fallen log a few steps from the road, leaning over and plucking a few small coins from its shadow.

Madeleine the "most talented and beautiful merchant of the land" (self proclaimed), had sought out Master during his attempts to gather information and begged him to escort her through the Seabreeze Trail to the Soldier's Encampment. I find myself pondering still whether Master accepted out of the goodness of his heart or because of her bountiful cleavage bursting from her low cut dress as she clasped her hands together and leaned toward him while pleading with large teary eyes.

Perhaps a combination of both.

Regardless of reason, our band of four is now responsible for the safety of this woman until we can make it to the Encampment. During the day this would have been simple enough, as the trail is relatively safe while the sun is in the sky. Aside from the rare goblin, few monsters are present in this area. However, this only applies to the day hours. When the moon rises, bands of goblins and wolves roam from the Witchwood to catch anybody foolish enough to wander outside the walls unprepared.

Unprepared or, in the case of the bimbo skipping into the shadows of the forest on the side of the path, completely brainless. Even Master looks worried as the howls of wolves begin to draw closer, obviously drawn by the idiotic shouting of Madeleine.

"H-hey Madeleine, let's hurry up a bit, yeah?" Master quietly calls out with a nervous laugh, tapping her on the shoulder. "Some of these monsters can get pretty nasty, you know?"

"Oh, don't worry! I have the utmost faith that you shall deliver me without even the slightest scratch no matter what may hap-"

Madeleine's response is cut short as Silvie yanks her out from the brush, the slavering fangs of a massive wolf cutting through the air where Madeleine's head had just been.

"Wolves, Master, in the woods!" Silvie cries, taking the charge of a second wolf on her shield, her eyes narrowed into a ferocious glare. I am so shocked by the sudden change in her demeanor that I almost miss seeing her quick counter-slash with her sword that sends the wolf reeling with a pained howl.

The first wolf strikes at Silvie's exposed back only to explode into flames in midair, crashing harmlessly to the floor in a charred heap. Rook gives a satisfied grunt as he verifies the results of his spell and begins chanting again, his eyes closed and the tip of his staff glowing bright with arcane energy. A fiery sphere of magic flies through the air, attaching itself to Master's sword as he charges past Rook toward the remaining wolf. Lines of flame trace Master's wild swings and the wolf retreats into the underbrush, disappearing into the shadows with a low growl.

"Come back here, dammit!" Master hacks through the thick brush on the side of the road with clumsy sword strokes. His lantern shines through the newly created hole, illuminating the edge of the woods that was previously hidden. In the center of this light stands the wolf, hackles raised and fangs bared.

Along with a band of nearly a dozen goblins who had been creeping up in the darkness, attracted by the sounds of battle.

"Ah... shit." Master barely gets his shield up in time to block the dragon's spit thrown by one of the goblins, the explosion destroying his shield and blowing him backwards several feet.

While Rook checks on Master, making sure that he still breathes, I raise my bow and let my arrows fly into the advancing goblins. I am able to fell two of them before they can push through the hole Master made in the brush, but the rest spread out in an attempt to surround us.

Sylvie sets herself on our right, keeping Madeleine safe and preventing the goblins from advancing to our right flank. Unfortunately this leaves only myself to defend our left, as Master is still lying stunned on the floor while Rook chants a healing spell.

The threat of my arrow keeps the goblins at bay temporarily, but they know as well as I that after I loose my first shot I shall be defenseless. In the time it takes me to nock a second arrow, they will have struck me down. I curse Master's choice in 'armor' that he has provided, debating the chances I can use my bow as a staff to protect myself until Sylvie can slay her foes and assist me.

Before the goblins strike, however, Master shouts at me to get my attention.

"Damn, I knew I forgot to give you something," Master coughs, able to move once again as Rook's healing magic takes effect. He tosses two gleaming objects to me.

I fire my arrow into the eye of the closest goblin before dropping my bow and snatching the two daggers out of the air. As my hands grasp the handles of the two blades, knowledge of their uses floods my mind.

This phenomenon is shared among all pawns. The portion of the master's soul gifted to the pawn contains all the master's experience and knowledge up until the moment of summoning. In theory this allows the pawn to function as an assistant from the moment they form. (I say in theory, as there are stories of masters with no useful skills who summon pawns unable to even speak.)

I count myself lucky that Master is at least somewhat knowledgeable about weaponry, as I find I have basic understanding of the uses behind the bow and daggers he expects me to wield. With my newly found skills I dash at the startled goblins, blades at the ready.

The first goblin swings his club wide, my unexpected charge catching it by surprise. My left dagger intercepts its strike, severing its hand at the wrist while my right dagger slashes its hamstring. It collapses to the ground clutching its bleeding stump and I leap over it to attack the next goblin, striking it down with a quick thrust to the throat.

Out of the corner of my eye I see another goblin swing its club at my head, too fast for me to block. I brace myself for the impact, knowing that this strike will at least knock me unconscious- if not brain me.

To my surprise my body reacts almost on its own, falling to the ground in an evasive tumble underneath the strike. The movement is swift and precise, as though practiced over years of training. Strangely enough, my lack of armor is beneficial to this, as there is nothing to impede the quick movements I use to dodge the goblin's attacks.

As I rise to my feet, my left knife slides into the goblin's exposed ribs. It collapses with a look of shock and a confused gurgle, leaving me face to face with the final remaining goblin. I blink, barely able to comprehend the previous turn of events, then shoo the goblin off with my dagger. It trips over its feet in its panic, disappearing into the woods in mere moments.

My arms fall to my sides and I turn my head in time to see Sylvie cut down the last goblin on her side, Madeleine peeking over her shoulder at the felled monsters. Behind us I hear Master rising to his feet, his wounds healed by Rook's curative magic.

"Man, I sure am glad I remembered I had those daggers with me still," Master says with a wide grin, walking up and placing his arm around my shoulders. "Good job with those goblins, by the way."

I resist the violent urge to stab him with my new daggers, instead snatching the sheaths from his pack and attaching them to my belt. My new, well oiled daggers slide into their sheaths with barely a whisper, coming to rest comfortably on my hips. Their weight feels familiar to me, as though I have carried them with me for many years. This, however, should be impossible, as I have only been summoned for a matter of days.

Master chuckles at my confusion, his gaze coming to rest fondly on the daggers at my waist.

"Looks like you're already used to them. They're a good pair of blades. Sorry I forgot to give them to you before, guess I was a little too attached." He laughs, a hint of regret in his voice.

Understanding dawns on me as to why I feel so comfortable with these knives, why shooting a bow comes naturally to this body. Master must have spent years training with these weapons, the movements and style honed by him and passed on to me.

I ask him hesitantly for the reason he fights with a sword when he is so adept with the weapons of a ranger. After all, his skill with the sword is poor at best. He remains silent for a few moments, looking to the side awkwardly and rubbing the back of his neck before replying in a whisper so quiet I can barely hear his answer.

"Well... I didn't want you to have to learn the sword from scratch, since I've never trained in it before. Trying to fight without knowing how to use your weapon will get you hurt, so I'd rather I were the one to get injured instead of you, you know? I mean, it is my quest, not yours."

I begin to ask him why we cannot both fight with the weapons of a ranger, but the question dies in my throat as I realize the answer. Without somebody fighting as the vanguard, the bow would lose its effectiveness in combat the moment enemies closed in. We could then switch to daggers, but against a coordinated group of enemies the sword is much more powerful. Therefore, if I am to use the bow and daggers, Master must fight with a sword to balance our party's capabilities. I stand frozen, shocked at this new bit of insight. Is it possible that Master is actually far more competent than I had originally believed?

However, his next words shatter any hopes I have.

"I-I'm just kidding, that's something I just thought up right now. I just wanted to fight with a sword because it's way more heroic! I mean, when have you ever heard stories of knights and warriors who fight with daggers? Never, right!" Master poses with his hands on his hips, striking a pose and laughing, his face glowing red with the light of the lantern.

I, along with the rest of our group who have gathered near us, am stunned speechless. All my delusions of my master's competency vanish, blown away by his inane giggles.

"Reina, get down!" Sylvie's sudden scream pierces the air just as I hear a snarling howl from behind me.

We have forgotten about the second wolf.

I turn my head and try to fall backwards, away from the pouncing wolf, but I am not fast enough. Its jaws shoot forward, fangs reaching toward my exposed throat, and I realize that I am about to die. Unsurprisingly, I feel no fear. While I do regret that I will be doomed to exist as a wraith for the rest of eternity, such emotions as terror are unknown to me. Perhaps I should be glad that I shall perish before I gained the ability to feel emotions other than frustration.

I snort humorlessly at my short lived existence and resign myself to having my throat torn out. I suppose there are worse ways to die. Such as being kidnapped as an ogre. _That_ would leave little room for optimism.

Suddenly I am yanked backwards by my shoulder, a wall of flesh appearing between the wolf and I. Faster than anyone else can move, Master has dashed forward and intercepted the wolf's charge. He shoves his left forearm into the wolf's maw, wincing in pain as the creature's bite crushes his bone and tears his flesh.

"Rook, fire!" He cries out, his voice tense with suppressed agony as the wolf shakes its head violently side to side.

A ball of flame crashes into the wolf, burning through its thick fur and scorching it to death in mere moments.

The group stands frozen, stunned at the suddenness of the vicious attack, but I leap up from my sprawled position on the floor and rush over to Master, kicking the wolf's smoking corpse off of him. His arm is mangled beyond belief, the bone protruding from what flesh there is left attached to the bleeding mess. As I stare helplessly at the mess, unsure even where to start to patch the wound, a bright green glow appears around Master and his arm begins slowly knitting itself back together.

"I fear I do not have the power to fully heal a wound such as this," Rook mutters sadly, shaking his head. "There is no way you will be able to use a shield for quite a long time, regardless of what magic I cast."

"No worries, man," Master says with a strained laugh, sweat pouring down his face and his teeth grit together. "Just do the best you can. The rest should heal up eventually."

Confused, I ask Master why he would do something as stupid as jumping in front of me. While I would have died, his life is more important than mine. Without him Gransys is doomed to destruction, but I can be replaced by other pawns. He blinks confusedly, cocking his head to the side and coming to his feet.

"Of course I would try and protect you," Master says with a shrug.

I am unable to respond, torn between thanking him and berating his stupidity. Before I can do either, however, Master opens his mouth once again.

"After all, if you got injured it would completely defeat the purpose of designing you to be eye-candy!" Master winks at me, smirking faintly. "Be completely pointless to make you super cute and dress you like that if you got hurt!"

The newfound spark of respect I have been developing for Master vanishes in an instant, replaced by disgust. He has the most unnatural talent for destroying all respect people have for him in a mere instant. While I am still struggling to form a suitable name to call Master, Madeleine jumps in, grasping his uninjured hand and pressing herself against him.

"Oh my, that was so very brave of you! And all of you as well, you're all such strong warriors," Madeleine says, beaming us. "I just knew I could rely on you to protect me!"

"Yeah, it was no problem," Master says while awkwardly struggling to disengage his arm from Madeleine's grasp. "No problem at all. If you could... just let go of my arm really quick."

He inhales deeply and begins invoking a short spell, crouching down and drawing a small pattern in the dirt. Blood red light shines from the sigil and expands several meters in all directions, pulsing like the beat of a heart.

The monster's corpses quickly disintegrate into a rainbow of swirling lights, thousands of brightly shining orbs dancing around us in a brilliant waltz. With every beat, the whirling circle of lights expands outwards and brightens, contracting when the beat has passed. Brighter than our lanterns, brighter than the moon, brighter than the stars. In the center of this radiant hurricane stands Master as the conductor, his uninjured hand skipping through the air and his gaze locked onto some distant object that only he can see.

"What... is this?" Madeleine gasps, eyes wide and mouth gaping open. "I've never... is this a spell?" She reaches out to touch the one of the lights only to have it dance out of her reach. Her hand hovers in the air, still outstretched toward the ballroom that she can only stare at from afar. "I've never seen a spell so mesmerizing."

Her astonishment is warranted. This spell is one unique to the Arisen, a power granted by the Dragon that will allow the Arisen to grow in strength beyond the limits of any normal mortal. By collecting the life force, otherwise known as ether, of vanquished foes and channeling it through his body, Master becomes stronger, faster, and more resilient.

While only the luckiest of humans can hope to defeat beasts such as cyclops and ogres in combat, the Arisen can channel his collected ether into his strikes. Even the mightiest of monsters cannot withstand the crushing blows of an Arisen with sufficient experience and ether.

Rook and I stand off to the side of the circle, silently observing the storm of sparkling color. While even I must acknowledge its beauty, we pawns are unable to feel the excitement and amazement that Madeleine must currently be feeling.

Or so I think, until Sylvie grabs me by the wrist and pulls me into the maelstrom.

"Come, Reina. If you plan to eventually live as a mortal, you must learn to take pleasure in events of such beauty as this," she laughs, joining the lights in their dance. I try to voice my refusal, as I would much rather be resting, but my sentence dies in my throat at the look of sheer delight on Sylvie's face. With a small sigh I join her, linking hands and spinning along with the pulsing lights.

"There you go! Trust me, Reina, someday soon you would regret it if you failed to make proper memories at this moment," Sylvie says with a giggle. "Rook, you must join us as well!"

Sylvie grabs Rook's wrist and yanks him into our mad dance, the three of us twirling around Master. I lock eyes with Rook, but all he responds with is a shrug and a wry smile. It would seem I have no choice but to see this out to the end.

In the moments I am not being blinded by flashes of color, I must admit to my amazement at Sylvie's joy. I had not thought it possible for a pawn to show such vibrant emotion, but the grin on her face makes it difficult to think otherwise. Is it possible that I may one day come to comprehend such emotion? Perhaps if Master can stay alive long enough, I will be able to understand, but at this moment I am merely confused.

The pulses grow faster and faster, the lights speeding up as well until they become simple streaks of color through the air. First Rook, then I, then Sylvie all fall behind in speed and go toppling to the ground, gasping for air (and in Sylvie's case, rolling around on the grass giggling madly). Abruptly, the tornado of light converges on Master's outstretched hand, condensing itself into a shining white ball and sinking into his skin.

As I sit, dizzily watching the last vestiges of the light show, Master strides over and crouches beside me.

"Reina, hold still for a moment," he says.

I confusedly ask him what for. He should have no need of me until he has fully absorbed the ether and is prepared to continue on to the encampment.

"I need to touch your chest."

My reaction is swift, my dagger practically flying from its sheath and coming to rest with its point at his chin. I may be his servant, but this body is still _mine_.

"Um... I probably could have said that better," he coughs nervously. "Let me try again. I need to establish physical contact near your heart in order to split the ether between us."

After a pause long enough for Master to begin nervously looking for an escape route, I sheathe my knife and ask him a question with narrowed eyes.

Why split the ether with me? Every Arisen I have heard of has kept the ether to themselves, choosing to empower their Pawn through temporary enhancement spells instead. Sharing the collected ether will only slow down Master's growth. His answer is unexpected, to say the least.

"You're my partner. Why wouldn't I split it with you?"

Partner. Not servant. This single sentence changes all my assumptions on how Master views me.

I am not his slave, bought with his heart.

I am not his servant, enraptured by his power.

I am his equal.

Thinking about it logically, it seems obvious that he viewed me as no mere servant from the moment I was summoned. After all, what master would tolerate the impudence I have shown from one of their servants?

He places his hand just below my collarbone while I am still trying to comprehend this new outlook on our relationship, pouring half of the collected ether into my body. I sway back and forth, my head light from the unfamiliar sensation.

"Takes some getting used to, doesn't it?" Master chuckles, ruffling my hair and stepping away from me. "Alright guys, let's go. Sorry for the wait Madeleine."

He gestures us to begin walking, smirking at whatever dazed expression I must currently have on my face as he tugs me to my feet and lightly urges me in front of him. Since Master's arm is wounded and his shield destroyed, he takes up the rear, waving Sylvie to lead the way.

Several minutes pass before I realize something strange and drop back to ask Master a question.

Why had he shared the ether with me but not the others?

"I told you already. They're part of my group, but you're _my _partner." A protective, possessive, affectionate light gleams in his eyes as he turns his head to face me. "Even if we've technically just met, you're still my partner. Maybe it's because you're my personal pawn. I'm not entirely sure why, but I know that I can rely on you to help me through all this."

Perhaps it is because he had saved me earlier, or because of his sharing of ether with me, but at this moment my master seems far more reliable than I have previously judged.

"Ah, I can see the Encampment," Madeleine's cry from up ahead prevents our conversation from progressing any further, as Master jogs up ahead to talk to her.

"Success! And all thanks to your fine work," she says, winking at Master and walking up to the gates. "We'd best be inside, don't you think?"

We follow her through the gates, a sigh of relief passing through our group as they shut behind us. I begin looking around for somewhere we can rest the few hours until the sun is fully up while Master accepts Madeleine's thanks. It takes me a few minutes before I find an empty space we can lay out our bedrolls, and when I come back I find Madeleine begging Master for a loan of a thousand gold pieces.

Before I can say anything, Master has already handed over the gold to a tearful Madeleine. He turns to face me, nodding toward our camp space.

"Good job Reina. I'm gonna go sit down for a bit, my arm is killing me- not literally, Rook, I'm fine." He walks off with Rook and Sylvie, leaving me with Madeleine.

"Hm... good man, your Master. Admittedly a bit of a dunce at times, but pleasant enough," a cold voice whispers behind me. I turn to see Madeleine watching Master with a calculating smirk across her lips, arms crossed.

My hand inches slowly toward my dagger, her sudden change unnerving me.

"Oh, do not misunderstand me- I mean no harm to Kang. Merely establishing the grounds for a future partnership, should the need arise- although he does need more practice with that sword of his before he can fight better than I. You, on the other hand," she says, fixing her gaze upon me and giving me a brief once-over. "Are quite adept with those blades of yours. I was quite impressed with your handling of those goblins."

She gives me a wink before turning and walking off, waving shortly over her shoulder at me. Strangely enough, for all the weight of her dress and pack, her footsteps are light and silent. Silent, except for a slight metallic rattling from under her dress as she pats her thigh just below her hips. The same place where I keep my daggers.

I watch as she weaves through the campfires until she disappears into the mass of soldiers performing their early morning drills. I will have to be wary of her in the future. Something tells me that Master is incapable of mistrusting a woman with her… assets.

Over at the camp, Master is groaning with his head in his palms. I shoot Sylvie a questioning glance, but all she responds with is a small shrug and a clatter as she knocks over her lantern. Apparently her clumsiness only fades during times of battle. I turn back to check on Master while Sylvie scrambles to put out the small fire the lantern has started on her blankets.

"I knew I forgot something, dammit," Master mutters, looking up at me with regret written on his face. "I forgot to get the Moonglow. It might be too late by tomorrow, the wounded might not last that long."

For once, Master is right. With the sun rising we cannot search for the Moonglow until later, and many of the wounded villagers are in dire need of medicine. In this matter the fault lies equally with me, for I had forgotten as well. As I search my memory desperately for any sighting I may have had of the Moonglow, Rook clears his throat to draw our attention.

"Not to worry Master, I picked this up while you were speaking to Reina out on the trail." Rook reaches into his bag and pulls out a faintly glowing blue flower, holding it out to Master. "I fear I forgot to mention it, as I did not wish to interrupt."

"Rook, you magnificent bastard!" Master jumps up, shouting and punching his fist into the air. He takes the flower, holding it in front of him and laughing happily. "Damn good job man, good... good..."

His sentence cuts short as his eyes roll back into his head and he falls forward, collapsing to the ground. Sylvie dives forward, barely managing to rescue the flower before he crushes it underneath him. While she places the flower safely to the side, I shake Master, calling for him to awaken. A slight feeling of panic builds in my gut and I look to Rook for assistance, but the mage simply gestures for me to sit back down.

Finding it odd that Rook is not panicking or trying to heal him, I ask Rook what is wrong with Master.

"I am astonished he has stayed conscious this long," Rook responds with a look of slight amusement. "After all, while I can heal wounds, I fear my magic is unable to reverse blood loss."

With a sigh, I resign myself to being stuck at the Encampment until Master awakens sometime in the not so near future. While I at least get the chance to rest, free of the tedious jobs of the past few days, I find that I miss the comfort of the fireplace in Master's home.


	3. Hydra: Part 1

**Day 4: Hydra (Part 1)**

We decide to send Sylvie back to Cassardis with the Moonglow, as Rook and I are better suited for caring for Master as he rests. Sylvie, Rook said, would be more likely to strangle Master with his own bandages than would I- and that was after accounting for my intense dislike for him.

After placing Master into his bedroll and ensuring he is in no danger, Rook and I both retire as well to catch up on the sleep we had missed.

Unfortunately sleep eludes me, my thoughts too jumbled for me to find rest. My past four hours have been spent staring into the fire while the sun climbs higher and higher, unable to find an answer to the conundrum that is my master.

His skill with the sword- or rather, his lack thereof- is the first of my headaches. As the Arisen is first and foremost supposed to be a warrior of unparalleled might, his utter lack of ability with his chosen weapon is worrisome. Not only are his strikes slow and clumsy, his knowledge of traditional swordplay in general seems to be nonexistent. It is quite obvious he has never trained with a sword under any teacher.

Yet, for some reason, the skill with the weapons of a ranger he has passed onto me are solid- exceptional even. Were he to fight with the bow and dagger, he would easily rank amongst the most skilled of warriors. Not once have I failed to hit my mark with my bow, and, as was shown in my massacre of the goblin raiders, my movements are trained to the point of being fast as lightning.

As if the massive discrepancy between his displayed weapons skills and what I believe to be his true ability isn't enough, I find myself unable to accurately read his decision making skills. His reckless charge into the bushes during last night's fight seems to hint at a lack of intelligence on his part. However, in the instant before the goblin threw its dragon fire, I saw Master's hands shoot towards where he would normally keep his bow and arrows. Had I been caught in his situation, I could have quite easily shot the goblin before it could light and throw its grenade.

Which means that Master would have been capable of the same had he a bow. With that knowledge I cannot conclude whether Master is truly moronic or not. Had he a bow at that time, is it possible that he would have been in no danger? If such is the case, the most I can accuse him of is forgetting what equipment he had in the stress of battle. Still idiotic, but not to the same extent as I had previously believed to be the case.

Perhaps there had also been some deeper reasoning behind his seemingly inane actions back at Cassardis, when we had dealt with the villager's requests? While this seems unlikely to me, I find myself unable to completely write off the possibility that Master is not as worthless as I originally believed.

The sounds of Master stirring awake behind me jolts me from my internal debate. I turn to check on him only to find him staring at me dazedly, a suspiciously lecherous smile indecently plastered across his face.

"Hey babe," he murmurs with his eyes unfocused, "having a hard time sleeping? I can cuddle with you if that helps any." He attempts to drop one eyelid in a seductive wink but fails miserably, instead contorting his face into a horrendously accurate impression of an ogre.

I discard my previously growing hopes for Master as wishful thinking on my part, the encroaching insanity of a pawn bound into servitude by a borderline mentally challenged Arisen. Or, even more worrisome, perhaps this is the result of Master's idiocy rubbing off on me. I shudder at that terrifying possibility.

Pushing my fears from my mind, I reach over to shove Master back onto his bedroll only to find him already sleeping peacefully once again. My hand hovers hesitantly in the air as I have the sudden desire to disfigure Master's face with charcoal from the fire. Quietly, so as not to wake Master, I grab hold of a stick of charcoal from the edge of the fire pit and creep closer to Master's bedroll.

"Reina, might I bother you with an inquiry?" Rook suddenly appears behind me and taps me on the shoulder. I spin around to face him while guiltily hiding the charcoal behind my back and ask him, rather loudly, what he needs from me.

Rook silently stares at me, his eyes narrowing slightly. His gaze slowly travels down my shoulder and to the arm I have hidden behind my back. A small bead of nervous sweat trickles down my neck and I surreptitiously slide the charcoal into my belt. While I doubt Master would truly care were I to play my prank on him, I am unsure of how Rook would react. Rook seems to take his pawn duties quite seriously. It is quite possible he may take offense to my lack of dutiful respect toward Master. I debate the likelihood of Rook overlooking a flying piece of charcoal suddenly shooting from behind me, but am forced to admit that Rook has quite sharp observational powers.

Just as I am on the verge of pointing behind Rook and shouting something about an exotic butterfly to distract him while I dispose of the charcoal, Rook finally shakes his head and mutters quietly to himself.

"No... I suppose you would be unaware," he whispers, his voice barely audible. "After all, you have no prior experience in dealing with newly summoned pawns as I do."

After quickly tossing the charcoal off to the side while his eyes are averted, I tilt my head to the side in confusion and ask him what he means. Rook blinks owlishly a few times, apparently surprised I had picked up on his murmurs. Perhaps he does not realize he had spoken out loud, as he simply looks at me inquisitively until I prompt him a second time.

"Very well, I suppose it shall not hurt to ask," Rook says, leaning forward and locking eyes with me. "Would you show me your pawn mark?"

I nervously hold out my slightly blackened hand to show him the glowing sigil on my palm, fidgeting slightly as Rook brings his face slightly closer and inspects it thoroughly. After a long minute he leans back with a sigh.

"Nothing there... perhaps it reveals itself spiritually? Or perhaps…" He pauses here, murmuring to himself for a few seconds before addressing me again.

"Reina, would you happen to have any feelings for your master?"

My hand drifts toward the hilt of my knife and I smile humorlessly at Rook, informing him that sometimes questions can, in fact, hurt.

"No no, calm down Reina. I do not wish to insinuate anything that may cause you disgust. I ask this because I have never before seen an Arisen treat their pawn as affectionately as Master treats you." Rook pauses to laugh, apparently amused by the look of utter revulsion that I must currently be displaying as I reel back in horror. When I regain my composure- a monumentally difficult task, as I am currently reliving Master's traumatizing displays of 'affection'- Rook continues, speaking slowly as though choosing his words carefully.

"Let me phrase this more appropriately- do you feel some sort of deep connection with your master? Any fondness for him stronger than compulsive loyalty?"

A deep connection? Toward such a useless master? No, most definitely not. I have no sentiments related to him more than a need to see him through his quest. While I do desire to have him grow as the Arisen, this stems more from how he irritates me than any fondness. Perhaps if he becomes more competent, my disgust in being forced to follow him will lessen.

I relay these thoughts to Rook vehemently, to which he nods slowly, knowingly.

"I see. So it seems different emotions do not come all at once," Rook murmurs, staring at me.

Unable to see where this line of questioning is leading, I lean forward and ask Rook.

"As I thought, you are unaware of your irregularity," he says with a sigh. "Come to think of it, do you know how Pawns are formed?"

Of course I do. Do any of us who go through the process not know?

"Ah, I apologize. I should have clarified. Do you know what it is that allows you to bond to your current body?" Without waiting for my response, Rook continues. "When a spirit is first summoned, it is impossible to bind them to a mortal shell. There is nothing to keep the spirit contained without a soul of this realm."

"In order to remedy this, the Arisen must provide a portion of their own soul to form a sort of glue. This portion of the Arisen's soul is very small, as damage to the soul takes a long time to recover. Were the Arisen to gift a large portion of their soul, they would be stuck in a state closer to Pawns than humans. No normal mortal would willingly give up their humanity for the sake of another."

I can not understand why Rook is telling me this, or how it relates to our previous topic. When I say this, Rook simply nods his head and continues speaking, gesturing for me to wait a bit longer.

"Most pawns are much... simpler than you so early into their existence," he continues. They lack the same level of personality that you have already demonstrated, a far lower level of emotional development. You, on the other hand, are very nearly developed enough to be mistaken for a human." Rook pauses, locking eyes with me before he continues.

"Overnight you seem to have developed an even greater sense of self and personality, a greater capability to express emotions and thought. Quite frankly it is… terrifying. Most pawns fail to reach your level of individuality even after several months of existence. I suspect that when Master summoned you, he gifted you far more than a just a small portion of his soul. It would explain his affection towards you, as well as your abnormally complete character when you were first summoned."

He stops speaking, giving me time to absorb the information he is feeding me. What he says makes sense, but without any prior experience with a newly summoned Pawn it is impossible for me to confirm. After a few moments of silence I give him a nod to continue, as I believe I see where his thoughts are leading.

"I noticed a sudden increase in the depth of your personality after yesterday's battle," Rook says, gesturing toward my pawn mark. "However, I cannot pinpoint the cause of this anomaly. I had thought, perhaps, that it had occurred due to a sudden increase in your emotional investment in your Master after he protected you and said investment's interaction with your portion of Master's soul-"

I cut him off there with a violent exclamation of disgust and denial. No way would I develop any emotional connection with my moronic Master from something so simple. Invested in Master's success I may be, but there is zero emotional attachment. In fact, I do not believe it is even possible for a pawn to form emotional attachment outside of a more willing loyalty. I simply have a mission ingrained in my being that I was summoned here to complete. As I proclaim my innocence loudly, Rook smiles slightly and pats the air in a calming gesture.

"Yes, yes, of course. I see now that I was horribly mistaken," he says with a chuckle.

I look at him suspiciously, unsure whether he truly understands, but he bows his head to me before I can confront him.

"Very well Reina, as you seem to be unable to sleep I will take the liberty of resting, if you don't mind?" Rook says, rolling back into his cloak and laying down. "Wake me when Sylvie arrives, if you would?"

Although I still wish to question Rook, I sense that no further information will be forthcoming at this moment. I sit down next to the fire with a sigh, gazing into the flames with a slight feeling of frustration. Without the experience of working with many pawns and Arisen as Rook has, I am unable to come to my own conclusions as to my personal development.

I can, however, take out my frustrations on Master now that Rook has gone to sleep. I snatch up a piece of charcoal and go to work, unloading all of my annoyance on Master's peacefully sleeping face.

* * *

A few hours later I find myself overwhelmed with boredom, my interest in watching the soldier's drills fading after several dozen repetitions. I must stay awake to keep the others from oversleeping, but I find myself dozing off under the warmth of the midmorning sun. Perhaps I should wake Rook or Master to take over watch duty?

However, I am unable to bring myself to rouse Rook from his bed. One look at his haggard face tells me he needs the rest, and it is well deserved. After all, Rook has borne the brunt of caring for Master- a job for which I am more than glad to defer responsibility to him. I turn to look at Master instead, but cannot wake him either- for different reasons than Rook. Namely the fact that I cannot look at Master without breaking into uncontrollable giggles at the numerous doodles that cover every inch of his exposed skin. Were I to wake him now, he may notice my artwork before he walks around the camp later today.

It would be a shame to waste all the work I spent on decorating my canva- my master.

Fearing that my laughter may wake Master, I stand up to take a walk through the trees that cover one side of the encampment. While I had noticed them earlier, I hadn't the motivation to get up and explore until now.

The forest makes a refreshing change of atmosphere from the rest of the dusty, soldier trodden camp. The practicality of encasing part of the woods within the Encampment's walls seems questionable, but the design flaws do nothing to diminish the pleasure I take in meandering through the shade. For the first time since my summoning I feel... relaxed. I find myself curiously searching out the origins of each and every sound, the experiences given to me by Master allowing me to identify the animals each call belongs to. The chirps of a sparrow, the chittering of a squirrel, the grunts of a boar- everything is present in my passed on knowledge, and yet everything seems so new.

Realization hits me suddenly as I am inspecting a strangely spotted mushroom.

How am I currently feeling curiosity and delight? In fact, judging by how I previously had wished to simply watch the ether spell Master had cast last night, I can not feel either of these emotions. Is this what Rook was speaking of prior to my walk? I resolve myself to question Rook further once I have finished exploring, pushing my confusion to the back of my mind for the time being. Wracking my brain at this moment shall do nothing but tarnish my current joy.

I stroll further and further into the woods, gradually becoming aware of a slight discomfort in my surroundings, a nagging feeling that something is wrong. The longer I wander through the woods the stronger this feeling grows. Something like a faint hissing at the very edge of my senses, barely present enough for me to register and yet not quite persistent enough for me to put a name to its source.

This hissing is not the only thing that seems out of place. The further I go into the woods the more my anxiety increases.

This fortified camp should be enclosed in a twenty foot wooden wall, able to prevent the intrusion of practically any monster. If not for this wall, the presence of the Arisen inside would be a magnet for monster attacks. In fact, I had earlier overheard a conversation between two soldiers about a cyclops attack a few days previously, when Master had visited the Encampment. The presence of the walls was all that kept the cyclops from slaughtering a great number of men, as they were able to rain arrows on the beast without any fear of retaliation.

So where is the wall? In nearly two hours of exploring, I have yet to see any hint of the wall that should be here. Surely the duke's builders had not trusted the defense of this side of the Encampment to the forest? An icy knot forms in my gut as I realize that they may have done exactly that. After all, from what I have heard while observing the men populating this makeshift fortress, the soldiers here are all mercenaries the duke cares little about. It is a definite possibility the duke's builders had cut costs constructing the Encampment.

I turn to run back to where Master and Rook are, to inform them that the Encampment may not be as safe as we had previously thought, when I realize that the atmosphere of the woods has completely changed. It takes me a few moments to place the oddity. The animals have all gone silent, except for that constant hissing that has grown in volume and is coming from all directions. Strangely, the hiss seems to be... laughing.

The origin of the strange hiss that has been bothering me for the duration of my stroll suddenly clicks into place and I take off sprinting. This sound is reminiscent of a furious snake- were the snake particularly massive and had several very angry offspring accompanying it.

As if my flight were a starting signal I hear _something_ begin chasing me, the splintering crash of the trees behind me being destroyed providing all the motivation I need to sprint as fast as I possibly can. The forest that had seemed so inviting during my excursion suddenly seems to be a death trap. One misstep on the slippery moss or a misplaced foot on one of the many fallen branches will be the death of me.

I vault over a log and roll as I hit the ground, thankful for the first time of my slight stature and light clothing. Were I heavily built and wearing full armor I would have been caught long ago.

Or perhaps worse, I realize as a stream of brown liquid shoots by my head and splashes across the area next to me, _melting_ everything it touches into a bubbling goo.

It looks like quite the unpleasant way to die.

I run until a stitch develops in my side, a painful lack of breath after sprinting at top speed for what seems to be a far greater distance than I had traveled on my way into the woods. The edge of the woods comes into view and I give one last burst of speed, tumbling over the dusty grounds of the Encampment and falling flat into Master's lap.

"Whoa, hey there Reina," Master says with a grin, raising an eyebrow. "I didn't expect you to be so glad to see me awake. See Rook, I told you she liked me! Babemaster, right here." Unfortunately I lack the air to respond to Rook's 'Oh my' or to express how very dismal Master's chances of wooing a woman are. Perhaps my lack of a disgusted reaction seems odd to Master, as he actually lifts me off of him and sets me down on one of the bedrolls to catch my breath.

"Er... Reina, is something-" Master begins, but his sentence is cut off by a piercing, furious screech announcing the arrival of the monster that had been chasing me. "Holy mother of snakes, that's a giant god!" Master shouts in surprise, leaping to his feet and fumbling with the hilt of his sword.

I curse internally at my inability to make a snide reply to Master's verbal slip past the heaving of my lungs.

"It's a hydra! What is such a beast doing here?" Rook shouts, eyes wide with shock. His cries are echoed throughout the camp, warnings shouted as the soldiers prepare themselves to fight.

"Master, I'd suggest we retreat for now," Rook says, standing up and placing a hand on Master's shoulder. "A hydra is far beyond what we can fight at our current strength."

Master hesitates, turning his head back and forth between the panicking soldiers and the approaching Hydra.

"Master, let the mercenaries handle this," Rook warns him, apparently frustrated by Master's indecision. "We cannot afford to let you die here. Even an experienced Arisen would have problems taking down a hydra."

"But-" Master says, but I cut him off before he can argue.

He is still wounded, unable to use his left arm properly, and we are currently missing Sylvie. Confronting the hydra head on would likely result in our deaths. I tell Master that the soldiers should be equipped to deal with this and that we would likely get in their way.

After a brief moment more of hesitation, Master nods and gestures for us to retreat.

While relieved that Master has listened to me, for some unknown reason I feel a sharp pang in my stomach. I look at the panicked faces of the soldiers as we pass them by, their unease confirming my fears. These mercenaries are not prepared to deal with a monster of this level, nor were they even expecting that such a thing would be possible. Likely they believed in the protection of the walls, in the absolute safety of their fortress.

I have lied to Master. It is certain that many of these soldiers will perish in their attempts to repel the hydra. Suddenly I realize what these sharp pangs in my stomach are- I am feeling guilty. Not just for leaving these soldiers to die, but also for lying to Master. At least, I believe this to be guilt. Considering this is a completely new experience for me, my conclusion is based entirely from hearsay and guesses. For the first time I feel frustration at my lack of emotional experience bubbling up within me. Why have I suddenly become able to _feel_ when just yesterday I could not?

Confusion, frustration, irritation, dissatisfaction: all of these I am familiar with. After all, these are more logical emotions, based upon reasoning and knowledge. Guilt, however, is a raw _feeling_ that I cannot suppress or incite through logic. I do not understand; I am a Pawn. I should not have _feelings_, as I am not human. According to Rook, even those pawns who develop the ability to feel do so over many months of existing, not overnight. Why would this change abruptly take place?

I angrily shove these newfound feelings to the back of my mind. Now is not the time for me to be distracted. Panicked screams split the air behind us as the hydra spews out jets of acid, melting several of the advancing soldiers. The sizzling of the men's metal armor fusing itself to their skin nearly drowns out their agonized death cries. Beside me, I can hear the sound of Kang's teeth grinding as we reach the top of the hill and turn to observe the ongoing battle.

Or rather, the ongoing slaughter. Dozens of corpses litter the ground after mere minutes of combat and the hydra seems none the worse for the wear. It shrugs off the hailstorm of arrows peppering its hide, the vast majority of sword strokes bouncing harmlessly off of its scales.

Contemptuously, as though mocking the men's attempts at resisting it, the hydra slithers forward and slams its tail through the main barracks. Splinters fly everywhere, a deadly shower of wood cutting down several more soldiers. One of the men takes a shard of wood through his thigh and collapses to the ground in front of the hydra. His shrill screams reach up the hill to us as a hydra head leans down and fixes its gaze upon him.

Strangely, after a few moments the hydra head pulls back to its full height and the hydra continues forward, ignoring the man. It seems as if the monster is only attacking the soldiers that are fighting it. The four heads scan around the camp, eyes narrowed, as if searching for something.

Or for someone. Unfortunately, I can think of only one person a monster such as this could be seeking. I turn to Master, intent on forcing him to flee the camp and hide, but am interrupted by Rook.

"Master," Rook says, "on the main head- is that not the same symbol that was present on the cyclops?"

I peer at the head Rook points at and am barely able to make out a glowing red glyph pulsing on the largest snakes brow. However, I have no memory of the cyclops Rook mentions.

"Ah, when we were previously here, the encampment was attacked by a cyclops that had been marked with that same symbol," Rook explains.

I ask him if he knows what the symbol stands for, but Rook shakes his head.

"It is no symbol I know of. This is only the second time I have ever seen it."

"Whatever it is, it doesn't matter right now," Master interjects, his glare locked on the rampaging hydra. "I can't just stand here anymore while all of them are fighting. We're taking that thing down."

Before Rook and I can stop him, Master charges down the hill at the hydra. I let loose a stream of curses aimed at Master's idiocy, contemplating the chances I can put an arrow in his leg and drag him somewhere safe. At least, as safe as he can be with an arrow in his leg and a giant snake monster searching for him. A sigh escapes my lips as I realize my idea would simply prolong the time till Master gets eaten.

"Well then," Rook says with a sigh of his own, "let us keep Master from dying, shall we?"

All four of the hydra's heads turn as they see Master rushing toward it. Their eyes narrow and each head draws itself up to its full height, hissing amongst themselves as though confused that their target would be foolish enough to show himself. The instant Master gets close enough, one of the heads shoots out to swallow him, acid dripping from its fangs.

Luckily for Master, I am here to cover for his poor decisions. I let loose a quick flurry of arrows to intercept the monster's charge and continue chasing Master, confident I have adequately fixed his mistake. However, my conceit is destroyed as soon as my arrows reach the target. I grind to a halt and reach for my bow again with a curse, watching in horror as every arrow rattles harmlessly off the hydra's armored scales. I should have aimed for the eyes, the only unarmored portion of the beast, but it is too late. There is no time. I scream out a warning as the hydra's jaws close in on Master, but he continues his charge as though clueless that he is about to die.

So much for fixing his mistake. If anything, my arrows seem to have infuriated the hydra even further. Hopefully the hydra will be so distracted by its fury that it accidentally leaves Master alive- if we get lucky he may even be only slightly mutilated! While these unrealistically optimistic thoughts run through my mind, a wave of fire from behind singes my hair. The instant before Master is consumed, the hydra's head is blown backward in an explosion of flames.

"Good shit, Rook," Master shouts over his shoulder as he slashes at the hydra's now exposed neck. "Reina, cover these soldiers while they retreat. I'll distract this sorry excuse for an earthworm until you're done."

The hydra seems to take exception to being referred to as an earthworm, baring its fangs angrily on all four of its heads. The effect of a 40 meter snake the thickness of a tree trunk _roaring_ angrily is terrifying enough to make every person present take several steps backward.

Everybody, of course, except Master. He charges at the monster screaming something that sounds suspiciously like 'Hiss hiss to you too, you discount worm!' I wish I could figure out whether Master is truly courageous or just too stupid to feel fear. Seeing as even I, a pawn lacking in emotional completeness, am still affected by the hydra's challenge, I do not have high hopes that it is the former.

Judging by Rook's despairing sigh behind me, he currently has the same thoughts running through his mind.

"Go on Reina. I shall cover Master for now," Rook says. He strides past me, staff raised as he summons a second wave of fire to hold back the hydra's attacks.

I cannot argue with their decision- the hydra's scales are too hard for my arrows to pierce, and I doubt I would fare any better with my knives. With a sigh, I turn to the edges of the battle. Behind me, the sharp ring of sword on scale grows more frequent as Master receives assistance from Rook. Monstrous howls of agony echo through the encampment, the fight equalized by the addition of Rook's torrents of flame.

My next few minutes are spent dodging around sprays of acid while trying to evacuate the surviving soldiers. Many of them are wounded,nursing broken limbs or gaping cuts caused by flying debris. Each time a head smashes into the ground, spraying sharp stones and fallen weapons everywhere, new screams pierce the air and I am forced to renew my frenzied dash across the battlefield. It is exhausting work, but I cannot slacken my pace. Each moment I spend here is another moment Master and Rook must hold out alone.

After I manage to get my fourth group of soldiers to safety, I rush back to a hear a female voice barking orders. Fighting alongside Master is a tanned woman with a foreign accent shouting at the remaining able bodied soldiers.

"Rally to me, Men! Will you deign to cower in the shadows whilst an outsider protects that which belongs to you?"

Every word she says is punctuated by a sharp thrust from the odd, silver sword she wields in her right hand. Her weapon is longer and thinner than the average sword, with a needlelike point and an elaborate handguard. In the amount of time it takes Master to unleash a single blow she has delivered several, all with the pointed beauty and grace of a striking viper.

The irony of this is not lost on me. Even the hydra, it would seem, is taken by the foreign style of this woman. When her hand draws back, each head pulls back in the same motion. Her body sways, and, as if hypnotized, the hydra sways its necks in rhythm with her. This, however, is where the similarities end. While her strangely smooth and twisting footwork keeps her safe from the hydra's strikes, each of her attacks bite deep into the hydra's flesh.

"To me, warriors of Gransys! Strike back against those who would threaten your land!"

One of the heads is severed at the neck by her furious onslaught, light fading from its eyes as a final hiss escapes its gaping maw. The woman triumphantly raises her sword to meet the cheers of the surrounding men, her white cloak billowing out behind her. Their confidence bolstered by her bravery, the invigorated soldiers charge forward to finish off the wavering hydra.

The hydra retreats with wary hisses, the heads rearing high into the air and their throats bulging. Its writhing body prevents any soldiers from circling to its back, but the renewed assault proves to be too much for the crippled monster to deal with. One particularly devastating slash from Master sends the main head reeling in pain.

With victory in sight, the soldiers move even closer to the hydra to put it down for good. They attack it recklessly, confident that it is now too weakened to fight back.

After only a few minutes I realize that something seems very wrong. The hydra moves sluggishly, but the soldiers attacks never seem to connect with any force- many of them miss completely. While the strikes of the hydra are far less powerful than before, the tempting movement of its coils seem to draw the men closer and closer to its body.

With a strange pulsating hiss, almost like a sinister chuckle, the three remaining heads rear up with throats bulging. I lock eyes with the main head as it bares its fangs, the insignia on its forehead pulsing red. It lowers its eyes to fix upon Master then raises them back to me, as if taunting my inability to stop whatever is about to happen. I leap forward to shout a warning cry, but as soon as I open my mouth the hydra lets loose a deafening roar.

I never get a chance to warn the soldiers before the hydra attacks.


	4. Hydra: Part 2

**Day 4: Hydra (Part 2) **

Although I fail to warn Master in time, it does not matter.

Sylvie has arrived.

She comes charging in from the open gate, shoving Master behind her. Her shield comes up and she braces herself in front of him, planting her feet firmly into the dirt. Her shield slams into position just as the serpent attacks. It makes its move abruptly, ferociously. With a furious, hissing bellow, the headless neck erupts in a violent spray of blood. Screams of horror fill the air as a brand new head comes barreling out from the stump, slamming into the surrounding soldiers and throwing them high into the air.

A bright blue light shines from Sylvie's shield as she channels a fortifying spell across its surface. She barely manages to withstand the bone shattering impact, but the force sends her flying backward to collide with Master, the two of them collapsing in a heap where they lay motionless. The hydra instantly lunges at them only to run headfirst into a towering inferno that ignites from thin air. All four heads reel in agony, scales blackened and peeling. Horrific, tortured screeches fill the air as the serpent quickly retreats, glimmers of fear clearly visible in its widened eyes.

"Reina, you must get them to safety. Quickly! I cannot continue this for long," Rook shouts, his eyes locked on the hydra. He looks exhausted, his face pale and his legs shaking. A single glance tells me he is scraping the bottom of his mana reserves. Even so, his barrier of flame never falters as he single handedly restrains the serpent.

I advance under the protection of Rook's magic, the heat increasing in intensity with every step I take toward Master and Sylvie. My skin crisps and reddens, my hair is singed, but I forge onward without hesitation. This heat is nothing in light of the alternative. While the irony would be mildly amusing were Master to be eaten alive mere days after escaping the Dragon, I would hate to be responsible for the same fate befalling Sylvie.

Only after I reach their limp bodies do I realize that I have forgotten something important.

I am rather tiny.

The two of them suddenly seem much, much larger than normal. I doubt I could even drag one of them to safety fast enough, much less both of them at once. If I fail, however, all of us will die as soon as Rook's mana gives out. With a frown, I lift Master from under his arms, put my head down, and begin pulling as hard as I can. I exert the entirety of my effort, straining every muscle in my body to the max. The ground passes slowly by until finally, after what seems to be ages of dragging Master, I look up to check how far I have moved.

Not more than five feet from me lies Sylvie, her position unchanged. I slowly confirm the trail through the dirt that represents my progress, making sure that I have not been the victim of some kind of sick teleportation related practical joke. The ridiculousness of the situation hits me all at once as I stare blankly at my two unconscious team members. Yesterday we were fighting goblins and looking for flowers, and today we are suddenly engaged in mortal combat against the god of all serpents. I almost wish to blame Master for this situation. His luck must be absolutely terrible to have run into a Hydra mere days after becoming the Arisen.

Then again, what did I expect. He had become the Arisen: If that does not speak volumes about what kind of luck he has, I do not know what does.

"Reina, what on earth are you doing?" screams Rook. "My mana is very nearly exhausted!" Rook's panic snaps me out of my blank stare. The urgency of the situation breaks through once more and I wrack my brain for a solution- any solution. I call out to Rook for assistance, hoping that perhaps he can come up with an idea.

"Just strip Master of his armor!"

No. Faster than I can say anything, my body shudders instinctually with terror. No, any solution but that. What if Master were to wake up midway through me removing his clothing? From what I have seen of Master, there are no possible outcomes in which I am not assaulted in some manner. It is far, far safer for me to face the hydra head on than to continue that particular line of thinking.

Once more I call to Rook for an idea, any idea, pretending that his previous words had never happened. A pawn as established and experienced as he should know of some tricks, right? I'd like to think that it is not entirely my fault that my mind is blank. After all, I am only a few days old. The best idea I can come up with on the spot is to charge the hydra; it must be Master's influence showing up at the worst of times. I ask Rook what tricks a pawn might have in times of a crisis, anything that could cause a sudden surge of strength.

"I just told you what to-" Rook yelps, then grunts as one of the hydra's heads pokes through a gap in the flames. With a wave of his hand and a second chant he collapses the fire onto the hydra from either side, then looks at me again. "You cannot possibly be that frightened of our Master's advances!"

In response I turn and walk toward the flames, telling Rook to create a gap for me to pass through. I will fight the hydra head on and hope that I can distract it long enough for Master and Sylvie to awaken. Just as I lower my hips, preparing to sprint forward, Rook sputters something at me, as though he has just experienced a moment of revelation.

"Your ether!" He yells. "Reina, you must use the ether Master has gifted you! Concentrate on bending the ether around your body and-" Rook cuts off his advice as the flames sputter and the heat dies, his attention refocused on maintaining his failing magic. It is a brilliant idea, and one that had completely slipped my mind. I had completely overlooked this possibility, as I had only just obtained my ether last night. With the use of ether, moving Master and Sylvie would take no effort at all. Within my body sleeps potential beyond any normal monster, perhaps even more potential than has ever been present in any pawn throughout history! There is only one problem.

How on earth does one control ether?

Would that my inherited knowledge contained information on how to harness my ether in the first place, let alone devote it to a specific task. When I focus, I can feel it swirling around inside my body, but no method of controlling it comes to mind. My thoughts run round and round in circles as the wall of fire begins to subside.

"Reina, you are thinking too hard!", Rook cries out. "Just… do what Master would do!" Even from several dozen meters away I can hear Rook sigh as he says this. I suppose his advice must sound just as insane to him as it does to me.

But what would Master do? Would he simply strain as hard as he could until his ether kicked in out of pity? Or maybe he-

My thoughts go no further before the Hydra bursts through the dying flames with a furious roar, raw anger shining from every single one of its eyes. Venom and slaver drip from its four jaws as it charges straight toward me. Each of its fangs are easily the size of one of my legs, its jaw a jagged nest of spears intent on impaling Master, Sylvie, and I. So close to the ground are its heads that I can see straight down the stinking black holes that are its gullets.

At this horrifying sight, I do the first thing that comes to mind. After emitting an embarrassingly feminine squeak of terror, I grab hold of the shoulder straps on Master and Sylvie's armors and take off sprinting while squealing something along the lines of 'runrunrunrunrun'. Apparently, this is _exactly_ what Master would have done as I somehow find myself standing next to Rook in an instant. The hydra has been left confused and far behind, searching for its suddenly vanished prey. Rook simply stares at me disbelievingly, eyes wide.

"Good… good job," Rook chokes out while restraining his laughter. "I knew you could do it. That was most certainly… impressive. Yes. Impressive."

I drop to my knees, too exhausted to even think of a comeback. My near supersonic sprint consumed every drop of ether I have, along with most of my stamina. It will be several hours before either replenishes, but at least Master and Sylvie are both out of immediate danger until they recover enough to fight. Behind me, the frustrated hydra turns back and forth hissing furiously, searching for its prey that suddenly vanished from within its jaws. As its eyes sweep the area, Rook pushes me to the ground and flattens himself next to me.

"We must avoid the serpent's gaze, or all is lost," Rook whispers, his laughter quickly dying as he pushes himself as close to the dirt as possible. "As soon as Master awakens we must flee. The soldiers shall have to fend for themselves."

I watch in silence as the hydra gives a scream of rage and wraps itself around a watchtower, bringing its heads high into the air. As its eyes scan the Encampment, a cold chill sets into my stomach. Even if the monster fails to find us before Master awakens, it will not be possible for us to outrun it. Once we rise to our feet the monster will immediately notice us and give chase. One of us shall have to distract the hydra while the others flee. When I suggest this to Rook, he nods his head in agreement as soon as I finish my sentence.

"Yes. Yes, you are correct. But which of us should go? You are too exhausted, you would not last long enough. I as well would last mere moments with my mana reserves depleted," Rook murmurs, frowning. While we quietly wrack our brains, observing the hydra's continuing rampage through the Encampment, a voice speaks out from behind us.

"Then that only leaves me, am I correct?" Sylvie pulls herself forward, wincing as her shield arm, bent at an odd angle, drags through the dirt. "My stamina has always been my largest strength. And, even were that not the case, I don't believe any of the soldiers would be content to sacrifice their lives for our master."

"Ah, Sylvie, good. You have awoken," says Rook. "Are you feeling quite alright?"

"As well as could be expected," Sylvie chuckles. "However, you may wish to check on Master once you have the opportunity. He seems to have attempted to cushion my fall with his body."

"Did he now," Rook sighs. "I must say that sounds very much like him. He does not seem to fully understand his place in this quest, nor ours."

I nod my head in agreement. Master should be quite willing to use us pawns as shields should the circumstances dictate, as opposed to using himself as a shield for us pawns. His is the most important role, after all, whereas we are merely his servants. What lord would throw himself into danger for the common footsoldiers he commands? What kingdom could survive with such a lord? Logically, it makes little sense, but I cannot quell the distinct feeling that this is a trait very much human in nature.

Regardless, in this instance Master's bad habit has allowed Sylvie to recover in time to help us. Of course, it has also resulted in Master's current unconsciousness, but perhaps that too is a blessing. Were he awake at this moment I have no doubt in my mind that he would immediately charge the hydra with sword drawn. At least in this state Rook and I can drag him to safety for the time being. It may only be a temporary solution, but if we continue to avoid conflict with the hydra for some time it may be possible for Master to collect enough ether to face the serpent on even terms. For that, however, Sylvie will need to act as a distraction, most likely losing her life in the process. It is regrettable, but I can see no other options. We have to send her.

I tap Sylvie on the shoulder only to immediately regret it as she flinches, her face contorted in pain and sweat beading across her brow. A closer look reveals that the bone of her upper arm has been broken clean in half and her shoulder dislocated. However, when I ask Rook for assistance, Sylvie shakes her head and stops Rook's hand with her unbroken arm.

"Save your remaining mana to care for Master," Sylvie says. "I shall not need my shield arm in order to run. Besides, even were you to take the time and energy to heal my wounds now, twould be a rather large waste once the serpent catches me."

She is not wrong. Were it an injury that would inhibit her movement, I could make an argument for Rook using the remainder of his mana on her, but it only her arm. Painful as it may be for her, it would be illogical to heal her mere minutes before she is eaten. Because of this, I make no move to stop Sylvie when she begins walking away, crouched so the hydra cannot see her past the tall grass.

"Once the hydra sees Sylvie, we must make for the north gate," Rook says. "I have enough mana for a levitation spell, but we shall have to move quickly." I nod to Rook, my body tense with nerves. If we cannot get Master away before the Serpent catches Sylvie, there is no cover between here and the gate. Our only chance will be while Sylvie is still alive- there will be no second opportunity. I muster up what little strength I have left in preparation, waiting for the instant I hear Sylvie shout.

"You… are leaving?" I barely manage to stop myself from bolting forward, the sudden, unexpected sentence taking me completely by surprise. Right beside us is sitting the swordswoman commander from earlier. Somehow she had managed to sneak up on us while our attention was on the hydra. I berate myself mentally, annoyed that I could have missed her approach. That Rook, judging by his shocked expression, had not noticed her approach either is some comfort. However, with the skills passed to me by Master, I should easily be more attuned to my surroundings than an aging mage.

But this is not the time for me to focus on my recent lackluster performance. The woman is still sitting there, staring at Rook and I with wide eyes. I doubt she will listen if we politely ask her to leave, and we cannot spare the attention to force her to leave. Therefore, we have no choice. We shall have to, as Master so eloquently put it before, 'listen to the people's concerns as a true hero would.' Once we turn to look at her, she speaks again, her voice strained with worry.

"The Arisen is the only person here who can fight that monster. If he leaves, my men… my remaining men will be slaughtered." Her voice cracks mid sentence as she gazes at the corpses of her soldiers scattered across the field. "Is there nothing you can do?"

"I apologize. Our master is not yet strong enough to defeat a beast of that scale," Rook says dismissively, shifting his attention back to the still confused hydra. "I am afraid you will have to fight alone."

"But even if you try to escape, the hydra will see you," The woman says desperately. "You'll die if you run."

Since Rook appears to be ignoring the woman, it is up to me to reply to her. I shake my head, explaining to her that we should be able to escape without harm. With a few brief sentences I outline our plan to her, letting her know that we are waiting for Sylvie to turn the hydra's attention in the opposite direction of the gate before we break from cover.

"What did you just say?" At the sound of Master's voice I sigh and turn to face him, ignoring the woman's frantic sputtering behind me. I had been hoping he would stay unconscious until we escaped, but his awakening will complicate things. I will need to convince him of the logic of our plan. It may be difficult, as I have no doubts that he will not be agreeable to Sylvie's sacrifice, but it does not matter. He will have to accept this. It may go against his inane desire to look and act like a hero, but we have no choice. I take a deep breath in preparation to begin my argument, but the moment I meet Master's eyes I freeze, all thoughts of convincing him disappearing under the uncharacteristically cold, hateful glare he fixes upon me.

"What. Did. You. Say," he repeats, his voice so far removed from his usual cheerful tones that I barely recognize it. I try to answer him, but the shock of his transformation has rendered me temporarily mute. My attempted sentence comes out as a mere squeak. Rook, not hearing an answer from me, begins to answer in my stead. He does not seem to have noticed anything wrong as of yet, as his attention is still focused on the hydra.

"Sylvie is working her way to the other side of the hydra, where she will-"

"Shut it, old man," Master snaps. At this, Rook finally turns around, his eyes wide with surprise. He freezes as well at the sight of Master's contorted visage, either unable to disobey Master's order or too astonished to speak. Both Rook and I simply stare at Master until he snarls at me once again.

"Answer me, Reina!" Even with my mind blank, the anger in his command pulls a short, stammered answer from me. I tell him exactly what I told the woman behind me, that Sylvie is going to draw the hydra's attention while we escape.

"I see." He glares at me for a few more seconds, then holds out his hand. "Lend me your knives and bow."

I hesitate, looking at his outstretched hand in fear. Is he dismissing me? Am I being told that I am no longer wanted or needed? My heart jumps into my throat. What possible use can there be for a pawn who is discarded by her own Arisen? I back away from him, shaking my head and tightening my grip on my weapons.

"It wasn't a question, Reina," he says, his voice a low growl. "I'm not good enough with a sword to save Sylvie with it." I give a sigh of relief; it seems I misunderstood his intentions. My mind goes blank after getting over my previous shock and I hold out my dagger belt without thinking, but my brain suddenly starts working again as he lifts it from my hands. What am I doing? I am supposed to convince him to flee with Rook and I, not give him the materials he needs to commit suicide. I reach out to take the daggers back, but it is too late. Master has already buckled on the belt and is resting his hands on the daggers' hilts. To my confusion, he seems to be holding a muted conversation with himself as he stares down at the blades.

"I need your help," he murmurs. "I know. I'm sorry, you know I can't do that." After a slight pause, he sighs. "She'll hear you eventually. She is technically an alternate me." He frowns. "Of course I didn't abandon you- you two, of all people, should know I would never do that." Another pause. "Because she needs your help more than I do, except for right now. Now stop, we need to deal with that snake before anything else." Finally he looks back at me and reaches for the bow, ignoring the look of utter confusion on my face.

Luckily I still have the presence of mind to draw my hand back. The chances of him dying here are far too high if I allow him to combat the hydra. No matter his confidence, the hydra is much too powerful for him to deal with. Master's eyes narrow back into his cold glare, but I look away before I am overwhelmed by the force in his gaze. My disgust with him aside, both my mission and my inherent loyalty scream at me to put his life above all else.

"Dammit Reina!" he shouts at me, the fury in his voice sending a chill down my spine. "Give me the bow. Now!" I shake my head, arguing that his life is our priority. He will do Sylvie no favors if he tries to save her and dies instead. I can not understand why he fails to comprehend this; to us pawns, the mission is everything.

Perhaps," he says quietly. "But to me, the safety of those who put their trust in me is everything. Abandoning a comrade to save myself is unforgivable." He gives a short, scathing laugh as he continues. "It's just a supposed part of being human."

Part of being human? In other words, something I can not yet understand? But what did he mean by 'supposed part?'

He gently lifts the bow from my hands as I am pondering his previous statement, pulling one of my arrows from my quiver before I can stop him. I shake my head to dispel my confusion, focusing instead on Master and the task at hand. I tell him that a single arrow will do nothing against the scaly armor of the hydra. However, it seems as if he has decided to ignore me, as he nocks the arrow to the bow without responding to my advice.

"Please, Ser Arisen, you must save my men." The woman who has been previously ignored during Master's and my confrontation suddenly steps forward, looking pleadingly at Master. "I will fight alongside you to the best of my ability, but I cannot drive off the beast without your strength."

"Have you no regard for his safety?" Rook says coldly, staring at the woman. "As I said before, our Master currently has very little hope of even driving that beast away, much less slaying it. Asking him to fight for your men is akin to telling him to die."

"But he has a chance!" The woman shouts. Her hand is clenched so tightly around her sword hilt that it has turned white as she grits her teeth and looks back at Master. "I know what I ask of you. But, as the leader of these men, it is my duty to exhaust every possible avenue to preserve their lives, and I will do anything to achieve this goal."

Rook seems as if he is about to speak up once again, but Master cuts him off with a wave of his hand. Master looks at the woman with his head cocked slightly to the side, locking eyes with her. She holds his gaze for a few seconds, then bows her head with shame.

"Please. I cannot save my men alone." She holds this position, with her head bowed and her gaze turned to the ground, for a few silent moments before Master finally responds.

"There's nothing wrong with valuing the lives of those who trust you over that of a stranger," he says calmly. "Raise your head. I had planned to fight regardless."

The woman looks up at Master in shock, staring at him with disbelief. It seems as though she had not truly expected Master to assist her. Master, however, ignores this and turns to look at the hydra, then raises his right hand in a strange gesture. His index finger folds down and he presses his thumb into its side while his other three fingers point straight out. With his hand set in this form, he touches the top of his right shoulder and slashes the tips of his three fingers across his neck toward his left shoulder. He points these three fingers at the hydra, closes his eyes and whispers something under his breath that I cannot hear.

While I do not understand the meaning of this ritual, it seems to completely baffle the swordswoman beside Master. A look of confusion appears on her face and she takes a few steps back, mumbling something to herself with her eyes fixed on Master's back. Before I can ask her what she is so astounded by, however, Rook moves forward and grabs onto Master's left arm. Master's expression darkens with pain. Rook has grabbed directly onto the injury that Master had suffered last night. While there are no outward signs of the wound, Rook had said that the arm was not fully healed after his application of healing magic. I, as well as Master, expect Rook to shortly realize his mistake and release his grip, but Rook simply looks sternly at Master and begins speaking.

"Master, if you die here, what will come of Reina? You must remember, Sylvie and I can advance no further. If we die, it is no big loss. But if you die, Reina's chance of becoming human shall disappear. Furthermore, your chances of victory are next to none. Just let Sylvie go, she would gladly give her life so that at least one of us pawns may find success. Think, did you truly bring Reina into this world for you to die only a few short days after?"

"I know, Rook. But I will never abandon those who entrust me with their lives. You'll just have to make sure I don't die," says Master, pulling his arm free and looking back at me. "Both of you. We're gonna kick that snake's ass."

"Rook," Master says, turning to Rook and holding out the bow toward him. "Your strongest fire enchantment. Hurry." As Rook begins chanting, a look of defeat and exasperation on his face, Master raises the bow toward the hydra and closes his eyes, his brows drawn together in concentration.

"Reinforce." Master's voice, though quiet, nonetheless reverberates through the air. Even from several feet away his voice resounds in my ears as though he were standing right beside me. I can feel the air around the bow vibrating, thrumming with magic as Master's left hand begins to shine a deep red. He slowly draws the bowstring back while chanting under his breath, his face contorting in agony from the strain of supporting the bow with his injured arm. The shaft of his arrow absorbs the crimson energy as it glides along the back of his hand. By the time the bow has been half drawn, both the bow and arrow have both become charged with energy, pulsing like the beat of a heart. I fear that the shine may give away our position, but the hydra still seems none the wiser, still scanning the multitude of panicking soldiers that are scattered across the remnants of the Encampment.

Suddenly, as Rook finishes his chant, flames blaze into life across the wooden grain of the bow. Every arrow that Master shoots until the enchantment wears off will be set aflame with Rook's magic. Rook's spell is powerful, even considering his current exhaustion, but it seems to still be too weak for what Master intends to do. Master looks at the flickering sparks with narrowed eyes, his lips set in a displeased frown, and then speaks another word.

"Condense." Once again the air around him buzzes with energy, but this time it quickly disappears, sucked into the tip of the arrow. To my surprise, the flames have disappeared from the surface of the bow and are now furiously swirling around the arrowhead, as though they are elementals of fire desperate to burst free of their shell. Finally I realize what Master is doing. He is controlling his ether- more skillfully than I would have believed him capable of- by infusing his words with power. My shock is mirrored on Rook's face, who is staring at Master with a baffled look on his face.

"That… that is not possible," he stutters. There is a hint of terror in the gaze he fixes on Master, then on me. "Both of you… the two of you are completely abnormal!" I ask Rook to explain, as I cannot understand Rook's fear. It is a pleasant surprise to see that Master has some level of ability, but why would Rook look so scared? If anything, he should be celebrating that our chance of survival seems to have just increased significantly.

"Reina, most Arisen, even those who are highly experienced, cannot control their ether so precisely. This is not common knowledge, but ether taken from monsters still contains some of their will. Every time an Arisen wishes to put their collected ether to use, they must first subdue this residual will to the best of their ability. Usually, the Arisen can only use their ether as a battery to empower their spells or attacks." Rook takes a deep breath, awe tinging his voice as he turns to look at Master. "Master, however, is using his ether itself to control the spell. Somehow he has managed to dominate the will within his ether completely."

My eyes widen when I finally comprehend Rook's statement. This is not simply a matter of Master being more skilled than I had thought. He is, according to Rook, some sort of prodigy when it comes to using the powers gifted to the Arisen. I turn to look at Master just as he takes a deep breath, a snarl fixed upon his face as he glares at the main head of the hydra.

"Pierce!" Master's roar echoes throughout the entire Encampment as he finally releases the arrow. It screams through the air, a trail of flame spiralling behind it. All four of the hydra's heads turn at Master's shout, but the arrow has already reached them. The main head is blown backward in an explosion of fire, smashing through the wooden tower that it is using as a perch. All of the heads drop to the ground, the body slowly unwinding from the broken remains of the watchtower. It lies there, motionless, for several long seconds. Just as I believe the creature to have been defeated, its entire body shudders and the heads rise into the air once again.

The feathered shaft of Master's arrow protrudes from the main head's right eye, the scales around it charred and blackened. All four heads turn to glare at Master, furious hisses filling the air, but Master simply returns the look with a sinister smirk, then speaks once more with the power of his ether.

"Detonate."


	5. Hydra: Part 3

**Day 4: Hydra (Part 3)**

Time seems to stop for a split second as Master's word roars toward the hydra. The moment the word reaches the arrow it combusts, flames swirling around the hydra's head and devouring its flesh. The monster gives a frantic, pained screech and whips its main head through the air, slamming it into the ground in its frenzy in an attempt to extinguish the flames, but the fire continues to ravage the beast until nearly half of its face has been melted away. Only after the head has been reduced to a glistening mass of charred flesh do the flames die. Bone peeks through the alternate patches of exposed muscle and blackened meat that still remain attached to the monster's skull, but it still fixes what is left of its left eye on Master as it hisses in agony.

"Damn," Master gasps out, his hands on his knees as he pants with exhaustion. "Still too weak, even with my ether." While I am astounded at the amount of damage Master's arrow has caused, he seems disappointed that he had not slain the beast. In some ways, I am actually glad that the hydra survived Master's attack. Had the beast died so easily, I would have thought myself to be under the influence of some hallucinatory or illusory skill. It is already beyond belief that Master has caused as much damage as he has. Hydras are some of the strongest creatures in existence, renowned for their astounding size, strength, and magic. This hydra easily lives up to its species reputation, as it ignores the horrid injuries it has incurred and begins to slither toward us with an evil glint in its eyes.

Suddenly, Sylvie dashes out from a bush, sprinting to intercept the hydra before it can reach us. She seems somewhat unprepared, stumbling slightly as she moves forward. It is likely that she was forced to move far before she was ready, as none of us had expected Master to awaken and take action. She raises her unbroken arm and screams at the hydra to draw its attention. Magic tinges her voice to force it to focus on her, but the power she can currently muster is only enough to attract two of the four heads. However, that is enough to stall the serpent. With two heads attempting to turn one directions, and the other two still trying to charge forward, the hydra is temporarily unable to strike at either Sylvie or us.

"Dammit, no! Sylvie, get back!" Master shouts, stumbling forward into a dash toward the hydra. "Rook, figure out how to get us all out of this alive!" At this impossible order, Rook once more demonstrates his applaudable loyalty and begins scanning our surroundings for anything we might use to put down the serpent while we escape. I can hear him muttering under his breath, something about collapsing another watchtower onto the hydra, but I find it somewhat improbable that a few logs could stop something that massive. Of course, at least Rook is doing something of use at this moment, whereas I am merely standing about rather moronically as I try and figure out what I can help with.

It must be Master's influence kicking in again.

On the other hand, I must admit to feeling a little bit left out, as Master only gave orders to Rook and neglected to ask for my assistance at all. Could he still be upset with me over our plan to abandon Sylvie? Then again, he does not seem upset with Rook in the slightest. He must have noticed that I was exhausted and decided that I would be incapable of harming the hydra at all. Yes, that must be it. He is most definitely not angry at me.

I can feel a strange feeling rising in my gut once more- that feeling that I assume to be guilt- but I suppress it. Now is not the time to feel. Now is the time to fight. Or rather, as I have no ether left, no daggers, and only a few arrows in my quiver, time to make a sad attempt at fighting. I rush toward the chaotic melee between Master, the female captain, and the hydra, snatching my bow from the ground where Master dropped it and notching an arrow. My arrows might not accomplish much, but I can at least distract the hydra at critical moments by aiming for it's eyes.

A few moments later, however, I find myself simply staring in amazement at the battle- particularly at Master. His fighting is completely different from what I have seen from him before, his every motion blindingly fast and supremely confident. Even the female captain, who had previously outshone Master, looks like a clumsy recruit next to Master. She has been relegated to a supportive role, simply keeping one head busy whilst Master attacks the other three.

The main head strikes down at Master, crashing into the ground with enough force to create a small crater, but Master has already disappeared. While I am unable to see Master, a thick red line carved into the third head's neck traces his path. I look frantically for Master, unable to believe that he has completely disappeared, and finally see him several dozen feet away from where I expected him to be. Just as I relocate him, however, he has already vanished, slashing across the second head's neck like a razor sharp gust of wind. He grinds to a screeching halt in front of the head, kicking it in the chin as it attempts to bite him before performing a rush of dozens of attacks in mere seconds. The second head is sent reeling backward, with a net of bloody red lines carved into its face. Only after Master has finished his attack does the main head figure out where he is.

Master leaps upward, stabbing his daggers deep into the second head's neck to serve as handholds as he climbs upwards toward its more vulnerable sections, staying on the far side from the main head no matter what angle it tries to strike at him from. In a matter of moments, Master reaches the top of the second head, swinging from one hand as it violently shakes back and forth. The head screeches in fury and panic, its eyes rolling it its sockets as it tries to dislodge Master. Its attempts at saving itself are futile, however, as Master unleashes a blinding flurry of blows to the back of its neck and rides it crashing down to the dirt.

As soon as the head hits the ground, Master throws himself into a roll and immediately rushes toward the third head, ignoring the main head entirely. His legs flash red, the bloody color of released ether, as he sprints forward and kicks straight into the hydra's neck, propelling himself high into the air and digging his daggers into the beast's flesh. Nothing the head does is able to shake Master off, even when the main head attempts to interfere.

Is this truly the same Master that I have been traveling with so far? Everything about him, from his confident, clever expression to the deadly aura he exudes with his every motion, is worlds apart from the man I have so far believed him to be. Even with my inherited knowledge of his dagger skills, I doubt that I would be so swift nor deadly. But, if I have his skills, then why is his ability so much different from what I am capable of? Does he have some sort of secret method that I was unable to inherit? From the moment he took his daggers in hand he has become a completely different person.

"What's wrong, Snakey? You look a bit upset!" Master taunts, making the same hand sign he had done earlier and holding it by the left side of his face, as though he were about to slap something. I am not aware of what this sign means, but it evokes a furious response from the hydra. The monster howls in rage, its remaining eye twitching insanely as its attempts to devour master are doubled.

"C'mon, that all you've got?" Master's ridiculing laughter infuriates the hydra even further. Its eyes go red, and both of the heads focusing on Master look at each other, then attack. Master swings to the far side of the third head's neck to avoid the main head's attack, but the third head does something completely beyond expectations. It callously spits acid at its own neck, forcing Master to leap high into the air to avoid being melted into a puddle. The third head melts away from the body with a final hiss of pain, but the damage to Master has already been done. His eyes widen, his mouth silently forming the word 'whoopsie' as he hangs in midair, defenseless against the hydra's incoming bite.

"Reina, shoot the eye!" I hear Sylvie shout from her position off to the side of the fight. While I do not expect my arrows to do anything, it is worth a try. I instantly launch two of my remaining arrows at the main head's remaining eye. However, as I expected, all that is accomplished is the closing of the hydra's eye. Blinding the beast would have been effective just before it attacked, but it has already locked on to Master. Its eyesight is unneeded at this point in time. My arrows will, once again, do nothing to stop the hydra. I almost wish to close my eyes as Master enters the creature's mouth. At this point, there is nothing I can do to save him.

Suddenly, the instant before the hydra bites down, a silver disk whizzes through the air and slams into Master's lower gut region, knocking him just barely out of the way with a clang. A crash sounds out as the hydra slams its maw shut, a mere hair's breadth from Master's skull. As the main head sweeps past, I am able to see Master falling lifelessly from the air, spinning wildly from the force of the impact between him and what appears to be Sylvie's hurled shield.

I must admit to finding this somewhat confusing. Although the shield must have hit him with quite some force, Master is still wearing a hardened leather tunic. The leather should have easily absorbed most of the impact, leaving Master with enough functionality to save himself from crashing helplessly into the ground. As concerned with appearances as Master is, he would normally be going through great efforts to fall… elegantly. Or at least, in a manner that looks less like a dying, spastic chicken.

"Reina, catch him! Rook, ready, aim, fire! Literally!" Sylvie shouts, throwing a red barrel through the air toward the hydra. I sprint forward toward Master, but without my ether I have no way of actually reaching Master before he hits the ground, much less catching him. Luckily, he lands on his back instead of his neck, his limp body making a worrying thump. Less worrying than, say, a crunch, but still dangerous sounding enough to warrant my assistance. I rush forward, quickly grabbing him under the arms and attempting to drag him to safety, but my diminutive stature once again proves problematic. Turning toward Sylvie, I begin to shout for assistance only to be knocked to the floor by a deafening, fiery explosion from behind me.

"Woo! Yeah," Sylvie cheers, jumping up and down and pumping her good arm in the air in a strange gesture of triumph. "I love those things!" She continues her celebration as I turn to a scene of flaming devastation. A huge section of dirt has been blackened by the explosion, with scattered patches of dry grass still smoldering with flames. The hydra, with two heads already killed and the main head seriously wounded, has been sent crashing to the dirt and is lying there stunned. While the first head that Master killed has been merely knocked to the side, the stump of the third head is charred and burning. Off to the side lies the remaining half of the fourth head, and next to it the female captain. It looks as if the explosion occurred much closer to all of them, resulting in a much larger concussive force hitting them than what knocked me down.

Rook runs forward to help the female captain and gestures for me to help Master. I suppose he expects me to drag Master away, but with my current exhaustion it is impossible. Much as I hate to do this, I am forced to ask Sylvie to cut short her excited cheering and come help me. From what I have seen so far, the hydra will recover in the near future. I do not wish to be right next to it when this happens, especially as Master is still unmoving and making strange squeaking noises.

We drag Master off to the side, far enough away that the hydra will take a few moments to reach us even after it recovers. This should give me the time to figure out what exactly has put him in his current state.

I try to roll Master over onto his back, but his body remains curled up into a ball. Both of his hands are reached down toward his lower abdomen, hidden by his knees that are currently drawn up near his chest. His expression is that of a man in incomparable agony, with his face bloodless, pale, and dripping with cold sweat as his mouth gapes open and closed.

"Reina… I'm… sorry…" Master wheezes. I blink a few times, wondering why he would apologize to me at this moment. It can't be- is he dying? Am I about to become yet another expired, unable to become human after being sucked into this world at the selfish whims of my Arisen? I quickly ask him what injury he has, hoping that I will be able to staunch the wound long enough for Rook to help him.

"We might… never… be able… to have children," he finally gasps out, then rolls over with a groan. "Oh god… my jewels… Sylvie, why?"

Welcome back, the Master we all know and hate. I am so very disappointed your change was temporary. Good aim, Sylvie. Then again, I am fairly certain she had not hit Master in that particular spot on purpose. Had it been me throwing the shield, I know I never would have thought to take the opportunity in such a dire situation. And I am the one out of the three of us who harbors the most distaste for Master! Rook is the most loyal, but Sylvie is the one who is most fond of him.

"Reina, is Master quite alright?" Sylvie asks from the side. I look up at Sylvie to explain that Master is alright, ready to quell her fears of Master's imminent death, but stop and swallow nervously upon seeing her face, a chill running down my spine. She has her usual innocent, sweet, somewhat dumb smile on her face- but there is an undeniable crafty sparkle in her eyes as she grins down at Master's pained visage. Perhaps, maybe… it was _not_ an accident that her shield happened to strike at Master's most sensitive area? I suddenly suspect that Sylvie's usual clumsiness that just so happens to disappear during combat is simply an act, and her usual slowness merely a cover.

"Reina," she prompts once more, that suspicious gleam still flashing in her eyes, "how is he?" I stammer out that Master is fine and should recover in a few minutes, but her shield may have caused some unintentional side damage when it hit him. She giggles at this, kneeling down and extending her good arm to stroke Master's head caringly.

"Oh, I am so very sorry" she says, "I'm afraid that was all I could do to protect Master, with my arm in this state. But at least he lived through the hydra's trap!"

He may have lived, Sylvie, but I am certain that he currently wishes he had not.

I suddenly feel as though I have stumbled upon the reason why Master only ever harasses me, even with the presence of an elegant beauty such as Sylvie in our team. Perhaps I should seek out Sylvie for advice when next we have time to rest. If my suspicions are true, she shall be far more helpful in this matter than will Rook. Although her timing could definitely be better. Even if she saw an opportunity, crippling Master in the middle of mortal combat seems far out of place considering the seriousness of the situation.

Putting aside Master's current situation for the moment, I call for Rook to come over. Maybe he has some sort of 'jewels' healing spell… or something. Rook comes hobbling over, carrying the unconscious female captain on his back. It would seem that he has already healed her with magic, as her body is noticeably absent of wounds, but Rook has obviously paid a hefty price for his overuse of magic.

His face is deathly pale, with an unhealthy sheen of sweat glistening on his forehead. Every gasp he inhales is haunted by a ghastly, rasping noise that emanates from deep within his chest. All four of his limbs shake violently as soon as he lays the woman down beside our group, and he collapses to the ground in a motionless heap. He is so still, in fact, that I actually believe him to be dead until he lets out a groan.

"Oh dear," Sylvie chuckles, "Rook, you look positively horrendous! You really should take better care of yourself- eat your fruit and vegetables! An apple a day keeps the healer away, you know."

I ignore Sylvie for the moment, rolling Rook over onto his back so as to open up his airways. Is there anything I can do to help him recover? I have no experience with mana exhaustion, and nothing from Master's skills tells me what to do in this situation. All I can do is wait for Rook to catch his breath enough to tell me what he needs. After about a minute of waiting, Rook finally manages to whisper to me.

"Leaving aside her choice in words, Sylvie was actually correct. An apple would be quite useful for my current predicament. I must recover my energy, and food is the best way to do so," he says.

"See, told you!" Sylvie chortles, pulling a slightly bruised apple from her pocket and shoving it unceremoniously into Rook's mouth. How convenient, that she just so happens to be carrying an apple with her.

Actually, wait, how on earth has that apple survived in one piece through our fight with the hydra? Is it a special sort of apple? Or has Sylvie been purposely protecting that specific pocket throughout? Thinking back to the moment she pulled it out, it was in the pocket opposite her broken arm. Is it possible that her arm is currently broken because of her guarding this apple? When I worriedly voice this question aloud, she simply cocks her head at me with her always present smile.

"It worked out stunningly though, did it not?"

Only now do I realize how little I understand about my companions. Before I can berate her for her carelessness, however, Master finally rolls to his knees and pushes himself off the ground, albeit somewhat shakily. Seeing as how I can do nothing for Rook, now that he has his apple, I also rise. The two of us gaze at the slowly stirring hydra for a few silent moments before Master speaks in a slightly higher pitched voice than normal.

"You guys think it's dead?"

There is no need for me to respond, as the hydra bursts into motion the moment Master finishes his sentence. The main head of the hydra rises high into the air, the red glyph on its head losing brightness as it glares down at us with its good eye. If it were possible for looks to kill, we would be obliterated by the sheer hatred in the hydra's gaze. However, it also seems to respect our strength significantly more than it had previously, as it simply stares at us instead of immediately attacking us. Maybe it has decided that we are more trouble than it is worth to kill us. In fact, it almost seems on the verge of leaving, the glyph on its head sputtering in and out of existence.

At least, until Sylvie's shield whizzes through the air and crashes into the hydra's blinded, ruined eye with a loud clang. The silver disk bounces off the hydra's skull, its deep thrumming noise like a proud gong as it spins straight up into the air, flipping end over end.

"Ten points! I'm catching up, Master!" Sylvie cheers. Whatever scale the hydra is weighing in its head suddenly tips far, far toward whichever side says 'let's eat these puny humans'. With a furious roar, all three of the dead heads explode into bloody chunks and three new heads shoot out from the stumps with a sickening, splattering, crunching sound. All of our previous work has been undone in a matter of seconds. As the glittering shield drops down past the front of the main head, it lashes out, catching the shield between its jaws and swallowing it whole.

"Oh come on!" screams Master, turning to look at Sylvie. "Why?!" Sylvie, however, completely ignores Master's condemning glare, instead screaming 'shieldy no!' I wish the two of them would focus on the problem at hand- namely, the giant serpent that has gone from on the verge of leaving to looking as though it would like nothing more than to erase us from existence. For the first time since my creation, I feel as though Master might not be the most problematic member of our group. Sylvie seems determined to treat this entire fight as a joke- although, now that I think of it, I have never seen her take anything with any measure of seriousness.

Leaving aside Sylvie's idiosyncrasies for the moment, our fight seems completely hopeless. This is the second time the hydra has simply shrugged off everything we could throw at it. The only residual damage is the injury to the main head- an injury that has, so far, seemed to do very little to inhibit the serpent's attack.

Luckily, the hydra seems to be having problems of its own. The main head is struggling to attack our group, but the other three heads are confusedly trying to pull the body in the opposite direction. Even when the main head snaps its jaws onto the other heads, they all ignore it. Are they afraid of us, perhaps? I would say that this is not the case, as the three heads are not displaying any sort of fear. Rather, they seem to to have no desire to attack us in the first place. But, if the majority of the hydra's heads feel no need to attack, then why is the main head so set on slaughtering us?

I go to shake Master's shoulder. This is the perfect opportunity for us to flee, but Master is simply staring at the hydra with furrowed eyebrows instead of giving us any orders. However, he just waves his hand at me distractedly, his gaze fixed upon the hydra with deadly concentration. No matter how hard I try to rouse him, he simply ignores me, muttering under his breath as though he is trying to organize his thoughts. While I am glad that Master has not completely reverted back to his usual idiotic antics, we still need somebody to decide on our next course of action. With Rook completely focused on devouring his apple, our group has nobody to come up with a plan. We are simply forced to wait for Master to finish thinking, all while the monster's heads argue amongst themselves.

Eventually, the main head grows tired of fighting against its compatriots. It leans backward and howls, the glyph on its forehead bursting with light. As it shines, the rays of light coming off of the glyph shoot straight toward the eyes of each of the three minor heads. They freeze as if spellbound, their eyes taking on a red glow and resonating with the gleam of the glyph. Slowly, all three of them turn to look straight at Master. Only then does the main head allow its screech to die out, the glyph dimming back to its original dull glow.

"That's it," Master suddenly says with a snap of his fingers, "this time, we're taking that snake down." I look at him in astonishment, asking him what part of this still allows for optimism. After all, with two people unable to fight, one person doing her best to get us all killed, and myself only just now recovering the smallest amount of ether, the only person still able bodied enough to hold back the hydra would be Master, and I have very few expectations that he will be able to do by himself what our entire group was unable to accomplish. Add in the fact that the hydra seems to be able to regenerate without limits, and the situation is dismal at best.

"If we can take out the head with the rune," Master explains, "I'm willing to bet that the hydra will turn around and leave us alone." I think on what he says for a few seconds. After considering what we have just witnessed, his conjecture does have some merit to it. Of course, stating this is a far simpler matter than actually putting the idea into action. It is, indeed, a bet, for if we devote all of our energy into removing the main head, and the hydra continues to attack us, we have just lost our chance to flee.

"Hold this for me." Master unslings his shield from his back and hands it to me, bending his knees in preparation to dash at the hydra. "It's getting in the way, and having it on my back won't really help if I get hit anyways." I look blankly at the shining circle of steel, then ask Master why we can not let Sylvie use it. If anything, she can throw it at Master again if he gets caught in midair. However, when I say this, Master's face visibly pales and he winces briefly, turning to look at me with a look of indignation.

"I'd like to end this fight the same gender as when I started it, thank you very much." With this, he runs forward, dodging past the attacks of the three minor heads and leaping toward the main head while I begin wracking my brains for ideas. I do not see any potential for success in a brute force attack for removing the main head. So far, the only strike we have successfully landed on the main head besides Master's surprise arrow has been Sylvie's shield throw. After that, the main head has been noticeably more careful- in fact, it is currently drawn far up into the air, out of reach of Master's knives. With the other three heads focused on attacking him, Master is hard pressed to even stay alive, much less scale the beast's neck to attack the weaker sections below its head. Thankfully, the female knight has awoken and is currently covering Master's back, or the three minor head's redoubled attacks would have likely struck him down already. They are heavily pressured, however, and do not look as though they will last long if we can not kill the main head soon.

I hurriedly scan through my memories, thinking over every action I have seen the main head of the hydra take. There has to be something it does, some sort of habit or weakness, that we can take advantage of in order to strike directly at it. But what have I seen the main head actually do other than command the other three heads? Now that it is focused on protecting itself from Master, we can not attack it at the moment it lunges at Master, as I would be my first suggestion. The only weakness I can think of would be its injured eye, but we have no way to take advantage of this while the head is twenty-five feet in the air.

Wait. We do have a way to take advantage of it. A scene replays itself in my mind, a silver disk flying through the air and crashing straight into the beast's injury. The hydra's infuriation, and its contemptuous swallowing of Sylvie's 'shieldy'. If we were to throw Master's shield at the hydra's blind side once again, perhaps it would once again react by swallowing it.

Along with anything that we have attached to the shield- say, the second, small explosive barrel that Sylvie is fondly cradling in her good arm. If we were to set off an explosion from within the hydra, I doubt its scales would protect it. I quickly run over to Sylvie, ignoring her protests and pulling the barrel away from her and weighing it in my hand. It is heavy, but I would still be able to throw it with the use of what small amount of ether I have recovered. With this question answered, I tie the barrel to the shield using the shield's strap while explaining to Sylvie why she can not have her barrel back.

"Sounds like it shall be a blast," Sylvie laughs, clapping her hands excitedly. "But, Reina, you do know that you must set off the explosion with fire, correct? Without that, your plan will not work out as you hope." This fact has slipped my mind. Help, however, comes from the most likely of places.

"I can assist in that matter," cuts in Rook's shaky, but reliable voice. "I shall set a delayed flare spell between the shield and the barrel. However, this means that you shall only have a single chance. If you miss, or the hydra does not take the bait, the last vestiges of our energy will have amounted to naught." I once again find it fortunate that I am an emotionless pawn. Were I burdened with a full human emotional spectrum, the pressure of this situation would no doubt interfere with my ability to perform as needed. With a short nod of acknowledgement to Rook, I prep the barrel in hand, fixing my aim on the main head of the hydra. All I need is the proper opportunity.

The main head holds itself high in the air, loftily gazing down on Master with a look of arrogance. It exudes a regal majesty well befitting an emperor of serpents despite the massive wound it bears. In fact, rather than detracting from its dominating aura, the scar instead lends the serpent a sinister, tyrannical air. Unfortunately for it, fire does not discriminate based on one's pedigree. There will be no chance of it recovering once the barrel enters its maw. It shall perish under the explosion the same as any mortal beast. It must.

As the three minor heads finally corner Master and the female knight, closing in on them slowly, the main head finally lowers its guard. It focuses intently on Master, as though relishing the moment its subordinates will swallow him whole. Its single eye no longer keeps watch on its surroundings- this is my chance.

I replay the moments where Master harnessed his ether in my head, trying to get a firm grasp on how he drew out its power. While I doubt I shall be able to utilize it to the same level of mastery, all I need at this moment is the simplest of uses. Last time I managed to pull out the power of the ether, it was by luck. This will be the first time where I intentionally use my power that surpasses all pawns before me.

I draw back my arm, the weight of my makeshift projectile pulling my body backward. The slender wisps of ether coursing through my body responds to my will, eagerly rushing into my arm almost before I command. Rook's earlier comment regarding the usual rebelliousness of absorbed ether flashes through my mind, but my ether is almost fearfully obedient. For some reason, the ether that Master has passed on to me has been completely tamed. All I have to do is give the command, and I can sense that the various wills present in my ether shall do their utmost to fulfill my orders.

My focus sharpens far beyond any moment previous to this, every fiber of my being concentrated on the main head of the hydra. With a sharp push off of my back foot, I put all my strength into my right arm and almost unconsciously scream out a single word, a decree to my excited ether.

"_Fly!"_

The makeshift grenade tears through the air, far faster and higher than would have been possible with purely my strength. Alerted by the sharp whistle of the projectile, the main head of the hydra begins turning toward us, but it reacts a moment too slowly. With a satisfying clang, the shield collides with the hydra's skull and bounces high into the air, glittering enticingly with the sun's rays.

The main head quickly shakes off the impact, screeching in pain and anger. It whips through the air, searching for the offending object that dared to sneak attack it, and naturally sees the shining object falling past its face. Thankfully, the shield has arranged itself so that it fully hides the barrel from the hydra's view. With a quick snap of its maw, the main head catches the unassuming contraption between its fangs and turns to stare at me. I can see a glint of triumph in the serpent's eye as it looks at me. It seems the beast believes that shield was our final hope of saving Master. Slowly, painfully slowly, it tilts its head back and swallows the shield whole, baring its fangs in something resembling a sinister grin at me.

Its conceit lasts all of three seconds. A massive explosion from inside its throat rips the main head apart, sending its skull flying high into the air and knocking the other three heads to the ground before they can attack Master. Its remains hang in the air, its eye opened wide in a look of shock, then slowly drop to the ground. The symbol on its forehead sputters bright red for a few more moments, then disappears with a final, residual hiss.

We can not celebrate yet, however. The other three heads are still alive, and there is a large chance that Master's conjectures earlier were incorrect. If Master was wrong, the hydra shall continue to attack, and with Master's current position, he will surely die if this is the case. All of us hold our breath, staring intently at the three minor heads hopefully.

Gradually, the red glare slowly fades from their eyes as if it had never existed. All of the heads blink confusedly, looking first at the people standing frozen between them, then at the blazing stump where the main head used to be, then at each other. What will they do? Will they simply devour the easy prey in front of their eyes, or will they follow what they seemed to be their earlier desire and simply leave?

Luck, it seems, is ever present when it comes to Master, for the three heads turn away disinterestedly from Master and the female knight. Simultaneously, all three of them lead the body away, slithering slowly back the way they came. Silence falls upon the Encampment for several minutes, the remainder of the garrison slowly gathering around the fallen main head with awestruck expressions. Then, as if it had been previously arranged, all of the mercenaries break into uproarious cheers well suited to the victory we have achieved.

"Knew I could count on you guys," Master says, walking up and clapping Rook and I on the shoulders to the background of the soldier's applause. "How did you guys do that? I was a bit busy dodging snake heads to see exactly what happened." I shrug my shoulders, giving a brief overview of our sneak attack to Master, who nods in approval.

"It was definitely a perfect snake attack," he says with his customary idiotic grin. Rather predictably, none of us laugh at his pun, not even Sylvie. "Oh come on! It wasn't that bad!" Master sighs, hanging his head in disappointment. And with that awful victory line from Master, our battle against the emperor of serpents comes to an end.

* * *

It takes several hours for the Encampment to get put back in order. The tents are set back up, and the debris is cleared from the field. While it will take much longer to fully restore the Encampment to its previous state, nobody wishes to put in any more work for the day. Instead, all of the surviving soldiers set up huge bonfires and pull out huge chunks of meat, settling down for a raucous victory feast. Sylvie, her eyes wide in excitement, drags an uncomfortable Rook and I over to join in with the soldiers. It is several long hours before I am able to extract myself from her grip and retreat to the outskirts of the feast, searching for Master. Rather than taking part in the festivities, I would much rather find out what Master's plans for the morrow are, then find a place to sleep. After all, I had not slept the night before, and the combat with the hydra was extremely draining.

Surprisingly, I spot Master not in the mass of celebrating mercenaries as I had expected, but quietly watching the festivities from the darkness just outside the light of the fires. He has a strange, conflicted look on his face, as though watching the gleeful soldiers causes him intense pain. His eyes never leave the mass of people, but his gaze seems to be instead looking at something far, far away.

I approach him quietly and sit a few feet away, coughing lightly to get his attention. He blinks a few times and shakes his head, then turns and nods at me in greeting. His usual grin is noticeably absent, but for some reason, I find his subdued, calm gaze infinitely more fitting. While it is not as friendly nor as inviting, it comes across as much more natural for him. When I ask him about this, however, he quickly reverts to his normal state, idiotic grin and all.

"Sup' babe! Did you feel bored at the party and come over to cuddle?" he asks me. Although this would normally provoke a less than pleasant response from me, I shall let it slide for today, in honor of his unnaturally competent performance against the hydra. I instead keep my expression neutral and ask him about our future plans. A faint glimmer of surprise appears deep within his eyes at my subdued reaction, and he pauses for a few moments in shock before answering.

"Well, Mercedes- that's the lady who fought with us earlier- asked if we would help escort them to Gran Soren. She wants to present the hydra head to the duke. Apparently, bringing in trophies from slain monsters is common among the nobles and soldiers. It increases their prestige, gets them rewards, so on and so forth. For us, however, it should give us the opportunity to meet the duke in person. I'll need his backing if I want to travel across Gransys uninhibited- plus, he should have a huge information network that'll come in handy."

His plans make sense to me, although there is one part that stands out in a negative fashion. Did he say that we were giving away the hydra head instead of absorbing its ether? A beast of that strength would allow for great strides in increasing Master's power.

"I know, I'm not too happy about that either," he says, a sour look on his face. "But this could be the only chance I have to be taken seriously by the duke. Gotta prove our heroism some way, right?" He shakes his head and sighs, then suddenly flashes a wicked grin at me and spreads his arms out. "Anyways, let's get back to the important stuff! C'mere, Reina, I couldn't bear to reject you after you left the party just to cuddle with me." That familiar disgust with Master rises up within me at this. I turn and stalk off, leaving Master groping the air in disappointment. No matter how well he performed today, he is still, apparently, the same dunce as before.

Our camp is actually nearby the spot where Master was sitting, the small fire already lit and our beds laid out. On one of the bedspreads lays Rook, already asleep and snoring softly. He must have been kind enough to lay out all of our beds before falling asleep. I look down at his tired, slightly curled up form with some gratitude. Even though he must have been the most exhausted among us after our earlier battle, he still is taking care of our party, like a guardian or parent. In fact, with Master being Master and Sylvie's clumsiness, we have come to depend on Rook as the cornerstone of our party. Perhaps too much so. His earlier collapse could have easily led to his death in any other situation.

I shall need to work harder, not only for our continued survival, but also to relieve some of the burden from Rook. After all, I am Master's main pawn. Even if I am not the cornerstone of the party, I should at least play a larger part in the group. If the day comes where Rook is unable to stay with our party, then I must be ready to take over his duties. Master would not make it very far without one of us acting as his caretaker.

The warmth of my bed, set at just the right distance from the fire, is too enticing to resist. My eyelids begin drooping even before I fully lay down, exhaustion overtaking me in a matter of moments. Just before fall asleep, I look over at Master and see him speaking to a villager- someone from Cassardis, I assume. It is too far for me to hear their conversation, but I manage to keep my eyes long enough to see the villager clap Master on the shoulder and leave. Then, my eyes fully close and I drop off into the calmness of sleep.


	6. Interlude 1: The Mysterious Witchwood

**Interlude 1: The Mysterious Witchwood**

"What did you say happened to Quina?" My question causes the man in front of me to flinch, his eyes downcast. A few muttered excuses reach my ears, and his head sinks even further toward the ground. He looks so pitiful that it's impossible for me to be upset at him. Not that I was actually angry at him to begin with- nobody I know is capable of restraining Quina when she sets her mind on something. No, my exasperation is more directed at Quina than at this poor guy I had set to watch over her. Besides, thinking about this logically, Valmiro can barely take care of himself. It was more out of desperation than confidence in him that I had asked him to keep Quina from doing anything stupid.

"Kang, I'm sorry, I took my eyes off of her for only a second… okay, more like a minute… or an hour… but still, I didn't expect her to suddenly leave a note and run off to the Witchwood!" Valmiro pleads with me, teary eyed. "She even promised me that she would stay in the village! I didn't think she would break her promise that easily."

"Did she swear, in the exact words, to 'stay in the village'?" I ask Valmiro, sighing. The poor guy always was easy to trick, and it doesn't help that he's been starry eyed over Quina for as long as I can remember.

"Er… no," he replies, looking back at the ground. "She promised that she wouldn't do anything stupid."

Which, of course, means that she can do literally anything her mind comes up with, because nothing she ever thinks of could _possibly_ be anything but the most brilliant of ideas. I let loose a second exasperated sigh, shaking my head. I really don't have the energy for this right now.

Why did I have to pick up that damn sword when the dragon showed up? All those years of hiding from anything even remotely life-threatening, and I end up getting stuck trying to complete the longest, most deadly quest in existence. If I could go back a week and slap my past self for even daring to look at the dragon, I would do it in a heartbeat. Any chance of living peacefully has gone completely to hell ever since I tried to play the hero and got my heart ripped out.

But how could I have just sat there and watched as Quina ran up and tried to fight the monster herself? She couldn't have just ran away like a normal person. Everybody else was halfway out of the village, me included, and what does she do? She runs at a fire breathing lizard the size of a small castle and tries to get her fool self killed. What was I supposed to do, watch the girl who saved my life all those years ago get eaten?

I give a massive, third sigh. I'm sure the reason she ran off to the Witchwood by herself has to do with her feeling guilty over getting me killed. Or… whatever happened to me. Zombiefied?

"It's fine, Valmiro," I say, rousing myself from my thoughts. "I'll go find her. Just get yourself back to Cassardis without dying, alright?" Valmiro nods and pats my shoulder, giving me a grateful smile. I'm sure he wishes he could go find her himself, but Quina is probably the most skilled adventurer in the village other than me. I'm not surprised the village chief immediately sent Valmiro to ask for my help. If anything, I'm surprised that Valmiro managed to make the trip down Seabreeze Trail without dazing out and walking off a cliff. He's done it before- numerous times, in fact.

After Valmiro leaves, I start seriously thinking over the problem presented to me. With how long Quina has been missing, she's probably halfway to the Witchwood by now. In order to catch up to her, I'd have to rush all the way to the Witchwood, which would take me at least ten to twelve hours. However, I'm also supposed to help escort the hydra head to Gran Soren tomorrow afternoon. Taking into account the time I would need for a round trip, I would have to leave right now in order to meet up with the caravan tomorrow. In the middle of the night. Exhausted and without sleep. Right after fighting that monster of a snake earlier.

Dammit Quina.

"_Do you even have to look for her?" _a young man's snarky voice suddenly rings out in my head. "_Let's be honest here; the girl is way better at sneaking around undetected than you are. You'll probably just drag her down if you follow her." _

"_Lute, don't be mean," _replies a second voice, this one a young woman. "_You know how Kang is when it comes to his friends. There's no way he'd just sit here when she could be in harm's way."_

"_Psh. How he is when it comes to his friends? Come on, Kris, did you forget that he abandoned us with that Reina girl? Is ditching us like that considered friendship?"_

"_He had good reasons! Even though he gave us away, it's because he feels responsible for her, and trusts us to take care of her. Besides, it isn't like we're in any danger."_

"_Not in any danger? I'm in danger of going insane! Do you even know how bored I've been, with nobody to talk to?"_

I look down at the twin daggers hanging from my hips, raising an eyebrow. Lute and Kris, the two souls sealed within their respective daggers, always manage to turn every conversation they have into an argument. This time is no exception, even though they have not had the chance to talk with one another for the past few days. Although their continued telepathic bickering is making it impossible for me to think, I actually find it kind of comforting. Before I got my heart ripped out, I can't remember a day where the three of us weren't together, even back when they were both still human instead of sentient steel. Not being able to talk to them these past few days has been pretty lonely.

And if it's been lonely for me, it must have been infinitely worse for the two of them. Honestly, Lute has a good reason to be angry with me. Without me serving as a medium, the two of them can't even talk to each other, much less anybody else. I can only imagine how depressing it would be, to go from a normal life to being trapped as an inanimate object. If I had a choice, I would never give them up or let them leave my hands. After all, they're stuck in these daggers because of me.

However, just as Kris said, I have good reasons. I need them to watch after Reina, my poor Pawn who I selfishly dragged into this world. After Kris and Lute were sealed into the daggers, the two of them gained an ability to link up with their wielder's soul, allowing their wielder to utilize all the formidable skills the two of them had in life. Unfortunately, the only way for Reina to link with them is through her soul… something she doesn't currently have.

Thankfully, even if she can't hear or link with them, they can still prod her instincts in the right direction when she's in danger. If it weren't for that, she would have already died several times when I was too far away or too occupied to save her. Once she can link with them, however, her combat abilities will probably outstrip mine by a huge margin. When she establishes the soul link with Kris and Lute, she'll be able to borrow the skills each of them had when they were alive, just like I did earlier against the hydra.

Back when they were alive, their skills in their respective specialties were enough to warrant the label of 'geniuses'. Kris, in contrast to her silky sweet voice and caring disposition, was one of the most vicious dagger fighters I have ever seen. Whether it came to her blinding speed, her bewildering combinations, or her uncanny knack for finding and striking at her opponent's weaknesses, every aspect of her abilities were top tier. When the three of us went on missions, Kris would wait for Lute and I to draw the enemy's attention before becoming a deadly, untouchable shadow.

Lute, on the other hand, was a master of explosively powerful magic that seemed to perfectly fit his fiery personality. When he was at the epitome of his strength, he was able to call down meteors from the sky and summon storms of lightning with the flick of his hands. He could single handedly dominate entire battlefields; all we had to do was buy him the time he needed to cast his spells.

Unfortunately, I was never able to make full use of their skills. My guilt over their deaths always interfered with my ability to maintain a full strength soul link. Reina, however, won't have that problem. Once she has a complete soul of her own, she'll be safe no matter what tries to hurt her.

I let Kris and Lute talk for a few more minutes before walking over to my camp. I feel bad for them, but I don't have any time to spare right now. Quina has a tendency to get herself into serious trouble if she's left alone for more than a few hours.

"Hey, guys," I say, interrupting their continued conversation. If I don't cut in like this, they could keep arguing for hours on end. When they quiet down, their attention now on me, I reach down and pat the two daggers affectionately. "Really, thanks. If it weren't for you two looking after her, there's no way I could bring myself to let her fight alongside me."

"_Of course! We are friends, after all. It's the least we could do," _says Kris, her soft voice filled with concern. With her caretaker mentality, she probably wishes she could do more to help me out. When we were younger, even though I was the leader of our squad, she was always the one to take care of Lute and I.

"_Eh? Oi, that's not fair! You can't just thank me for something I never agreed to do!" _shouts Lute. An image of him stomping his foot angrily suddenly appears in my head, and I can't help but to laugh. Even though he keeps complaining, I know exactly how deep his loyalty lies. If I were to apologize to him and take him back from Reina, he would be the first to voice his very loud, vehement objections.

"_Oi, you're taking us with you to find that girl, right? I'm so bored. I didn't even get a chance to shine today," _asks Lute sulkily. Although Kris stays silent, I can sense her instantly perk up in anticipation of my response. To be honest, I wish I could take them with me. With Kris lending me her dazzling dagger skills and Lute lending me his proficiency with magic, getting Quina back safely would be way easier. After all, no matter how good I am with a bow, my left arm is injured too badly for me to rely on my archery, and my dagger skills are pretty lackluster compared to Kris's.

But I can't leave Reina defenseless while I'm gone tomorrow. What if something else were to attack the camp? Even if it makes things harder for me, I'm going to do everything I can to make sure she makes it through all of this alive.

If I take a step back and think about things rationally, I don't actually know why I'm so protective over Reina. From what Rook has told me, most Arisen before me had no problems treating their pawns as tools, but I just can't bring myself to see her that way. It isn't that I see her as my child, and it sure as hell isn't some perverse love. That would be weird. She's basically me. In fact, according to Rook, after enough time passes she'll be almost identical to me.

The thing is, I don't want her to be me- I don't even want myself to be me. Maybe that's why I'm so protective of her. I want her to become who I could have been, instead of who I am.

No matter what the reason is, I'm leaving Kris and Lute with her. I'll just treat this as some hardcore training- see if I can figure out how to use that unwieldy lump of steel called a sword properly. After watching Mercedes today, I think I managed to figure out a few of the things I was doing wrong. Hopefully.

"Sorry you two, I need you guys to stick with Reina still. If she still can't hear you in a few weeks, I'll take you guys around for a while, alright?" I pat Lute and Kris again, apologizing to them again.

"_Yeah, yeah. I figured as much. Make sure you don't die, you hear?"_

"_Stay safe! We'll look after Reina, so don't worry."_

I bring the two of them over to Reina, carefully placing them down so as not to wake her. She stirs slightly at my presence, having inherited my light sleeping tendencies, and makes a few cute snuffling noises before rolling over and settling down. The corners of my mouth tilt upward almost without me realizing it as I look at her. Hopefully she doesn't decide to put an arrow in my leg when I get back tomorrow- I know I saw her thinking about it when I decided to fight the hydra. That glint in her eye when she has an evil idea is all too similar to mine for me to have missed it.

Suddenly, a sharp, tearing pain runs through my body. I grit my teeth and choke down the groan that threatens to escape my lips, but can't help but to double over slightly and dig my fingers into my arms. No matter how high my tolerance for pain is, the severity of this agony is enough to drive me to my knees. Its only a few long minutes later that the pain gradually dissipates, the ripping agony fading away as though it was never there to begin with, and I manage to straighten my back and distance myself from Reina before finally letting out the quiet gasp of pain I had been holding. These fits have been occurring frequently the past few days, and I've become sort of used to them. However, there's nothing I can do to stop them. There isn't anything for me to do but forcibly continue onward as though nothing had happened.

After I manage to collect myself, I quickly check over the rest of my team's small campsite. My gaze passes over Sylvie's still empty bed and falls on Rook, the expired who first appeared to help me along my quest. His brows, even while sleeping, are furrowed with stress, a frown on his face. I can feel a faint sense of guilt building in my chest as I look down at his old, tired face. Not just because of him, but Sylvie and Reina as well. It is because of me that they are to be drawn into this life of danger and battles, and all I was able to do for them after such a long battle was lay out our camp while they were at the party. To make matters worse, all of them seem to feel as though it is only natural that they should act as sacrifices for me to complete my quest. Being created only to serve as stepping stones, to me, is indescribably sad.

After I get back, I'll have to try a bit harder to keep myself out of trouble. I'm sure that Rook would be a lot less stressed if I wasn't getting my ass handed to me every time we get in a fight. But hey, I'm not dead yet, right? I must be doing something right. Or Rook is. Either way, if we could fight off a hydra without anybody dying, keeping everybody alive after this should be easy.

I leave a brief note to Rook telling him to follow Mercedes' caravan tomorrow, and that I'll meet them at the bridge. Hopefully Mercedes will be willing to wait for me before setting off through the mountain pass. Then, without wasting any more time, I set off through the east gate of the Encampment. Time for me to get dragged into whatever plan Quina has come up with this time.

* * *

The path to the Witchwood is actually pretty short. It's only a dozen miles trip through the hills around the encampment, give or take. I should have been able to make it there in a few hours, but so far I've been on the trail for close to seven. The dark makes it difficult to see where I'm going, and I have to be extremely careful where I place my feet. One wrong step could drop me down the side of a cliff. The dark, however, isn't actually the biggest problem.

It's the bandits. They're all over the place, thousands of them. I had heard rumors a while back about a new bandit lord who had taken over the abandoned Aernst Castle, but I hadn't thought that his warband had grown to such a colossal size. Every few meters I travel I spot another fire, another group of bandits. I'm lucky I left at night- the darkness is the only thing between me and a potentially messy death. I've heard the bandits don't take kindly to people intruding on their territory.

Say what I will about Quina, but the girl has balls of steel. Figuratively, of course, but still. Slipping through all of these bandits is even setting me on edge- and I'm the one who used to do things like this every day. She would never make it to the Witchwood if it weren't for her skill at sneaking around undetected. Of course, from what I know of the Witchwood, sneaking around won't help her stay out of trouble once she goes into the fog. Hopefully she doesn't go too far in before I get there. I'd never be able to find her under the bewitching effect of the Witchwood's mists.

Assuming I manage to make it there in the first place. I finally reach the edge of the final camp, the only thing between me and the entrance to the Witchwood, but there's a problem. The final camp is dead center in the middle of the path, with a cliff to either side. If I try to go around it, I'll have to backtrack almost two miles in order to find a different path. That leaves me with only two choices: I can either assassinate the three guards standing watch or I can sneak through the middle of the camp.

The first choice, of course, is out. Not because I don't think I could take them; even taking how bad I am with a sword into consideration, luring them away from one another and cutting their throats would be simplicity itself. I wouldn't even need to fight them. No, the issue is something entirely different.

I will never kill other humans again. Even if it means putting my life at risk, I will do whatever it takes to avoid having to take the life of another human. While these people might be bandits, even though they might turn their blades on me without a second thought if they were to catch me, they're only trying to make a living for themselves. They kill people who intrude onto their lands, but I've never heard of them murdering innocent travelers who stay on the other side of that line.

That only leaves the second choice; I'll have to sneak through the middle of their camp without being noticed. It's definitely possible, or Quina would have never made it past all of these people and I would have found her by now.

There are a few scattered tents around the campfire that I can use as cover, but the first one is nearly a dozen meters into camp. The guards would have to be completely blind to miss me running across that much distance. I'll have to cause some sort of distraction to turn them all around for a few seconds, create a loud enough commotion on the other side of the camp that they can't ignore it. I doubt that something as simple as throwing a rock would work, but it's a starting point. It's at least worth a try.

I look around for a bit to find a good sized rock, then walk as close to the first tent as I can without walking into the firelight. My stance widens and my hand comes back. Then, without further ado, I throw the rock as hard as I can at the opposite side of the camp.

Now, I'd like to claim that my skill with all projectiles is as high quality as my ability with my bow. Unfortunately, that would be a lie. I've always been pretty hopeless when it comes to throwing knives in particular, and, at this moment, that seems to have translated directly into my rock throwing skills. The rock I threw arcs a perfect parabola through the air before crashing into the skull of one of the guards with a simultaneously satisfying and unfortunate thunk.

Well damn. That didn't go according to plan at all.

The man I hit in the head falls forward into the fire, scattering sparks and wood everywhere. In an instant, the camp is thrown into darkness, the guards screaming alarms as the situation quickly devolves into a panicked mess. On the bright side, from what I can make out of their screaming it seems the bandits have mistaken my errant rock as a full scale enemy attack instead of a single intruder. On the down side, there are now dozens of angry bandits running around between me and the Witchwood.

Since the fire is out, I decide to just take the chance that none of the bandits will be able to recognize me as an outsider and charge forward as fast as I can. My dash through the camp takes me past dozens of howling bandits. Everywhere I look, the camp around me has devolved into complete chaos. The smoke from the smothered fire adds even further to the mess, making it impossible to see anything in the dark.

And to think this was all caused by my innocent, distractionary rock. Whoops, I guess?

I make it over halfway through the camp before I'm finally noticed. A bleary eyed, balding bandit stumbles out of his tent and crashes into me, knocking me to to the ground. He reaches out his hand, getting ready to pull me up, then freezes as he notices my distinctly non-bandity clothing. I look at him, he looks at me, and just before he reaches for his sword I scream out the first thing that comes to mind.

"Run! Ghosts! Ghosts are coming from the Witchwood- they're everywhere!" For some reason, the balding head of the bandit reminds me of Priest Clemente from Cassardis. And, when I think of Clemente, the first thing that always comes to mind is his expression when I told him that he was haunted by ghosts. Like a sad puppy with a sour candy in its mouth. Never fails to make me laugh.

While the bandit is still staring at me in confusion, I leap to my feet, wave my hands toward him a few times while screaming 'spoooky', then sprint past him toward the edge of the camp. He doesn't even try to stop me. Maybe I was just too spooky for him? Or maybe he just thought I was too insane to be a soldier of the Duke. Who knows.

And at this point, who cares? Either way, he didn't draw any more attention to me and let me run right past him. Thanks to my quick thinking, I make it all the way to the end of the camp without any other problems, putting the angry yells of the bandits well behind me. The massive, looming trees of the Witchwood stand before me, stretching high into the night sky. After a few minutes more of walking I finally reach the only dirt road penetrating into the depths of the Witchwood.

And when I say the only road, I do mean the _only_ road. This path has been around longer than anybody can remember, and nobody has ever been able to carve a second one through the trees. I once heard a rumor that the few woodcutters and trailblazers who had gathered enough courage to try and make their own path had all been devoured by the terrifying fog that pervades the entire Witchwood. As rumors like those always seem to end, none of them were ever seen or heard from again. Go figure, right? Stories like those never have happy endings.

I search all around the path, but don't see Quina anywhere. A moment of panic rushes through my system when I realize that she might have already run headlong into the Witchwood. My slow pace instantly accelerates into a dead sprint. If I can move quickly enough, there is still a chance that I can catch up to her before she gets hurt.

Thankfully, as I take my first few steps into the trees, a young woman's cheery voice calls out to me from above, her figure well hidden in the low hanging branches.

"Took you long enough to get here." Quina drops down from the trees once I grind to a halt, leaves scattered throughout her hair and a sly grin playing across her lips. "What happened? I expected you at least an hour earlier than this."

"Oh, you know, there was just the slight problem of thousands of bandits standing in my way," I say, frowning at her. "Care to explain what the hell you were thinking, running off to the Witchwood by yourself?"

"I'm not by myself; you're standing right here, aren't you?" She arches a single, slender eyebrow at me.

"Well, I'm glad that you think of me as a person," I say snidely, "but you still didn't answer me. Why did you come here?"

Quina's smile disintegrates under the anger in my voice, and she looks at the ground hesitatingly for a few moments, pausing every time it seems like she is about to speak. Finally, under my silent prodding, she fixes her gaze firmly on her feet and mumbles something that sounds like; "The witch might know how to fix what happened to you. I just… wanted to help."

Which basically confirms my earlier suspicions. She did, in fact, drag me out here because she was trying to help me. I can feel all of my frustration ebbing away as I stare at her downcast figure. Even though she can be a massive pain in my ass sometimes, she's still one of the most good-hearted people that I have ever met. She gets herself into trouble more often than she really should, but it's always because she's trying to help someone.

"Look, just… don't run off on your own to places like this, alright?" I say with a sigh. "You've heard all the stories about people disappearing, it really isn't safe without someone to back you up." When she continues to look depressed even after I manage to lower my voice, all of the remaining anger I've been nursing since Valmiro showed up in camp completely disappears. Ever since I showed up in Cassardis six years ago, she's been like my little sister. Even now that she's just become an adult, I still can't bring myself to stay mad at her when she's upset. Instead, I reach out and ruffle her hair in my own, admittedly somewhat awkward, way of comforting her. Thankfully, all of the gloom surrounding her immediately vanishes, and she looks back up at me with her usual smirk.

"I never planned on going into the Witchwood by myself! It's way too scary."

"So then what would you have done if I hadn't shown up?" I can feel my head starting to hurt, the same as it always does when I try to argue with her. Somehow, no matter what it is, she manages to talk circles around me until I give up and go along with whatever it is she's planning.

"Kang, you always come find me," she gives me a beaming smile, but immediately continues speaking just as I open my mouth for a sarcastic response. "Anyways, now that you're finally here, I have my meatshield- I mean, my protector! I've gotten bored of waiting around here. Let's go find the witch." Before I can stop her, she leaps up to sit on my shoulders and latches her feet under my arms and across my back.

"What have you been eating?" I let out an exaggerated groan, pretending to stagger under her weight, but she just snorts and smacks the top of my head with her fist. Since that didn't work, I sigh slightly and ask what I know to be a pointless question. "...Can't you walk on your own?"

"No way," she says, leaning over and looking at the gravely, leaf covered path. "There are spiders and tons of bugs down there. I don't want any of them crawling up my legs."

"Of course, why didn't I guess? Thousands of bandits and you don't blink an eye, but bugs? They're a whole different thing entirely."

"Yep. I'm absolutely terrified," she states, tightening her legs as I try to push her off. Once I give up, letting out a long, drawn out sigh of exasperation, she laughs happily and points forward, into the Witchwood. "Now, onwards Kang! The witch awaits!"

* * *

It has only been an hour or so into our exploration and we are completely, hopelessly lost. No matter how strong my sense of direction is, something about the mystical, befuddling fog that pervades the entire Witchwood makes it utterly impossible to stay on track. From what I've gathered from the stories of the few people who have traversed the Witchwood, the path that leads into the woods should lead straight to the witch. As long as we stay on the path, we should have reached the witch without getting lost.

Of course, that would be assuming that the path didn't suddenly split into several branches, forming a frustrating maze that constantly leads us back to our starting point. Thanks to the fog, we've luckily managed to avoid fighting any of the roaming goblin warbands that wander the forest. They seem to be just as lost as we are, unable to find their way out. As the hours slowly creep by, our luck finally runs out when we are spotted by a small band of goblins.

"Quina, I'm gonna need you to get down for a bit. I don't think I can fight with you up there." I keep my eyes locked on one goblin in particular, the one I assume to be their leader by the battered crown on its head. It seems to be sizing us up, and I know that it won't be long before its vicious instinct urges it to order its band to attack.

"Hey, I'm really not that heavy!" Quina pokes the top of my head with her finger sulkily. "Besides, won't it be safer to run? You don't have your knives, and I've never seen you use a sword before. You don't even have a shield, and those are pretty important."

"Don't worry, it'll be fine. I need some practice with my sword anyways, and this is a good opportunity. Goblins tend to be a little bit on the slower side, so they won't be able to really hurt me."

"I don't know, I still think we should just escape…"

"We don't really have much of a choice, Quina," I say just as the goblin leader points at us with a howl. "Running blindly through the fog seems like it would be more dangerous than just fighting these guys."

"...Alright. If it gets too bad, let's just run though, alright? Goblins aren't very fast, and they tend to have pretty short attention spans. We'll just stay close to the path and hide in a tree or something."

As the goblins charge toward us, screeching their unintelligible war cries and waving their crude weapons in the air, Quina reaches up and grabs hold of a branch, pulling herself off of my shoulders and into the tree. The moment I feel her weight disappear from my shoulders, I yank my sword from its sheath and fall into a crouch. Usually, this would be around the time where I would start to feel horribly off balance. It isn't something I can really help, considering I usually fight up close with much smaller weapons.

Much to my surprise, however, this time I feel much lighter. It only takes me a second to identify the cause; without a heavy shield weighing me down, I'm able to adapt to the extra weight of the sword far more effectively. Of course, there's still the problem of actually knowing how to swing a sword, but that should be far easier to learn now that I can actually stay on my feet instead of stumbling around like a drunkard with a broken ankle.

As the first goblin comes within sword's reach, a glimmer of excitement ignites deep inside me. I have to admit, after my previous experiences using a sword—generally severe pain and some maiming— I had started to think that it was possible that I was just completely hopeless with this hunk of steel. Maybe, just maybe, it wasn't the sword that I had no talent with, and instead my clumsiness could be entirely blamed on the shield. Just before the closest goblin begins to swing at me, I take a single step forward and slash at the monster's neck.

To my credit, I do manage to remove the goblin's head from its shoulders in one clean strike, but I quickly realize that the extra weight of the sword makes it far harder to stop my attack than I am used to. Before I can regain my balance, the next goblin screeches angrily and extends its spear in a vicious lunge toward my chest. The thrust is too quick for me to regain my balance and parry, and so instead I rotate with the force of my first cut, duck slightly, and spin to the side. The jagged spear point grazes past my spine, sending a shiver down my neck, but I barely manage to dodge the attack. With all the force of my spin behind it, my sword lashes out a second time and cleaves through the goblin's abdomen, nearly cutting it in half. This time, because of the extra resistance from striking through a thicker section of the goblin, I manage to catch my footing and halt my strike exactly where I want to, in position to defend me against the next attack.

I quickly realize that I have grievously miscalculated. There is not one strike coming toward me—there are six. With only one blade, there is no chance of me blocking all of the incoming attacks. A slight feeling of regret flashes through my mind. If I had only brought my bow, then blocking all of these attacks would have been simple…

Wait. Blocking? Realization strikes me like a thunderbolt and my eyes open wide. I'm an idiot. Because of my preconception that the sword and shield are used to block attacks, I've locked myself into a single minded style of fighting. Before, I've never tried to block enemy attacks, whether I was fighting with a bow or with my knives. With every weapon that I have ever excelled at, I had a completely different method of defense.

Evasion.

My body abruptly breaks free of the stiffness and mental shackles I had previously been binding myself with, and I drop into a fluid crouch completely different from my previous, upright stance. My mind feels completely awake now, no longer clouded by the confusion and nervousness that accompanied me every time I laid hand on my sword. I duck under the first goblin's slow, clumsy swing, sidestep the second goblin's thrust, brush past the third blow with ease, weave through the final three attacks, and arrive on the other side of the goblins with nothing more than a shallow cut across the bicep of my sword arm.

The sting of the cut puts a frown on my face. With how slow and clumsy the goblins are, I shouldn't have even been touched by their attacks, but the length and weight of the sword in my hand threw off my movements. Obviously, I will need to alter my evasive skills to suit my swordplay, rather than try to adapt my swordplay to my bow style of footwork.

Mercedes, the swordswoman who fought the hydra alongside me, comes to mind. Her fluid, serpentlike footwork is of a completely different style to my own, as she seemed to focus on stability and smooth, sliding motions. I, on the other hand, have a tendency to stay on my toes and leap around to gain more distance. Regardless, I can adapt certain aspects of her footwork into my own. Now that I am using a sword instead of a bow, I should be staying within sword's reach instead of always leaping away, and my stance should be more stable whenever I swing my weapon. I could shoot a bow from midair, but it is impossible to put any force into a sword stroke without proper footing.

I turn to face the goblins again, concentrating wholeheartedly on my movement. This time, when the goblins attack me in sequence, I force myself to be less rigid in my motions. I still stay on the balls of my feet to evade, but this time, I stay close to the goblins even after I dodge the first wave of strikes and plant my feet, sliding forward and aiming a thrust toward the back of one of the off balance goblins. My sword shoots out and spears through the goblin's neck, killing it instantly. For the first time, however, I still feel completely stable and balanced even upon completion of my attack.

An uncontrollable laugh of excitement bursts from my chest, a sense of achievement rising up inside me. With an ether charged flick of my wrist, I launch the corpse dangling from my blade at the goblin leader, knocking it on its ass. I'm on the remaining four goblins in an instant, a single flash of my sword all it takes to send them crashing to the floor. By the time the leader rises to its feet, it is alone.

It looks at me in confusion, then makes a strange gargling screech of terror and turns to run away. The sight is so pitiful that I almost want to let it go, but I can't be so irresponsible. Even if it weren't for the fact that letting it escape would allow it to eventually kill other innocent people, I have a responsibility to myself and to my pawns to grow stronger as fast as possible. For that, I need to absorb as much ether as possible. The goblin doesn't even make it a single step before its head goes flying into the air.

I take a few deep breaths to steady myself, scanning the surrounding fog to make sure that none of the other beasts roaming the forest are trying to sneak up on us. The sudden silence after my fight makes it easier to listen for any approaching footsteps, but no matter how hard I strain my ears, I hear nothing. After a minute or so, I decide that we're safe. Nothing heard us.

"Alright, we're good," I say, waving my hand in an all clear signal. "You can come down now."

A dull thump rings out as Quina drops from her perch onto the mossy soil. "You know, most people use a sword with a shield," she says slowly, walking over to stand slightly behind me while I search the goblin's corpses for anything useful. "It's a lot safer than trying to be fancy and dodge everything. Not having one doesn't make you more manly than everybody else."

I shrug my shoulders at her question, leaning forward and using the goblin leader's ragged clothing to wipe the blood from my blade. "I'm thinking about learning how to fight without one—this fight is probably the best I've had with a sword so far."

"No!" Quina suddenly shouts anxiously. Surprised at her sudden outburst, I turn in shock to see her staring at me and biting her lip nervously. "You have to learn how to use one, no matter how long it takes. I'm sure the duke and his army can hold off the dragon for now."

"...What?" I'm completely baffled by her sudden command. "Quina, is something wrong?"

"Of course something's wrong!" She steps forward and grabs my arm, tearing a strip of cloth off her tunic before I can stop her and wrapping it around the wound before she continues speaking rapidly. "There's a reason why everybody else uses a shield—it keeps you safe! If you can't even fight a few goblins without getting hurt, what's going to happen to you when you come across something dangerous? You aren't allowed to get hurt anymore, so you have to learn how to use a shield."

"Quina, I'm fine," I chuckle, rubbing the top of her head. "I'm not gonna die just because I don't have a shield."

"How can you even say that?" She says, her voice shrill with indignation. "How can you guarantee that you won't get hurt, or killed, and that you won't get carted back to Cassardis torn to pieces and- and covered in blood and with a giant hole in your chest and…" she trails off, a line of tears trickling down her face as she looks up at me. I'm unable to say anything. By her imagined circumstances, I can tell exactly what she's thinking about. What she just described is eerily similar to what I must have looked like after the dragon stabbed me in the chest and tore out my heart. As I try and find words to comfort her with, her quiet whisper just barely reaches my ears.

"Why did you have to jump in front of me?" She leans forward and rests her forehead on my chest. "Why aren't you angry at me at all? Why don't you blame me for killing you? I… I thought you were invincible—that you would always come and save me when I needed you and everything would be fine, and so I went around and did anything I wanted because I thought it wasn't really dangerous. Even now, I still did it without thinking, running into the Witchwood and just expecting you to come find me. And you show up and act like nothing happened, like everything is the same as before, only it isn't. It isn't, because you aren't invincible, and I… I killed you. Why are you still treating me just like you always have?

"Why don't you hate me? "

I give a slight sigh once she finishes talking, then wrap my arms around her and hug her. I knew that she was feeling guilty over what happened with the dragon, but I hadn't thought that it was eating at her this badly. After a few seconds pass, I take a step backward and put my hands on her shoulders, looking at her with a slight smile.

"Quina, look at me. Look at me! You did not kill me, alright? I chose to jump over there, and I'm the only one who can be held responsible for whatever happened to me. Besides, I'm standing right here, aren't I?" While she sniffles a few more times, I fix a wide grin on my face and poke her in the forehead with my index finger. "I don't know what being dead feels like, but I do know what it feels like to be alive, and I definitely feel alive right now. So no more of this, alright? I promise, I won't come back to Cassardis in a coffin." Finally, she nods at me and gives a halfhearted smile. I can tell that she still feels bad, but there's nothing I can do about that right now. All I can do is make sure that she knows that I don't hold any grudges against her.

After she completely calms down, I rub her head one more time before turning to the goblin corpses and casting my ether gathering spell. When the whirlwind of colors leaps into being, I hear Quina gasping in amazement. I can't blame her. Even though I have seen this multiple times, it is still more dazzling than anything else I have ever seen. The surrounding fog adds an ethereal element to the light show, the orbs flickering in and out of direct view and the lights painting the fog a myriad of hues.

We enjoy the show for a few minutes, and would stay for longer, but unfortunately, I'm on a time limit. I forcibly condense the ether into my palm and absorb it into my body. As it rushes through my system, I can feel the residual grievances and anger of the goblins resisting my control, preventing me from gaining full control over their ether. According to Rook, most Arisen would encounter difficulty taming their ether because of this, and would be unable to use it as anything more than a battery to power their attacks.

But that outcome is unacceptable. I'm already weak enough as it is, my skills and senses dulled dramatically by my past six years of idleness. If I can't gain power quickly, my weakness could lead to the injury or deaths of those close to me. I've already had a close call with Sylvie and the hydra, and I will not let that happen again. Anything that stands between me and the strength I need to protect my friends and my team will be knocked down.

And the goblins' interference in my usage of their ether—of my ether—is in my way. In order to tame them, I allow myself to tap into all of my willpower, drawing from the titanic frustration and grief that I usually keep locked away and hidden. Nothing will harm my friends when I'm around, especially not when it's inside my own body. This is my body, my ether, and my domain.

The goblins' residual will is instantly overwhelmed and crushed by my own willpower and forced into obedience. They're already dead, how could they put up any significant resistance? Maybe I would have a problem if this were, say, the residual will of the hydra, but mere goblins have barely any willpower to speak of even when they're alive.

Once my new ether has been brought in line, I portion out half of it for Reina and keep it separate from my own pool of ether. It might be a futile hope, but I want her to become her own person, or at least not turn into a second version of myself. I have no clue how to do that, but I need to start changing how she views herself as soon as possible. If she only experiences being treated as different from human, or as being my servant, then it will be even harder for her to become her own person in the future.

So, in order to do this, I have two methods that I'm trying. First, to put her on equal grounds with me by increasing her power alongside mine. If I were the only one to have ether, it would reinforce the master-servant relationship that she currently has thoroughly ingrained in her mentality. If she has the same amount of strength as I do, however, it should be easier to convince her to view me as an equal instead of her superior.

The second method is to help her to develop her own emotions and personality as quickly as possible. After putting in quite a bit of thought, I could only think of one way to accomplish this. If her emotions develop alongside her soul, then I simply need to help her complete her soul as fast as I can. Since her soul was made from a small portion of my own, then I figure that all I need to do is take portions of my own soul and integrate it into hers. At first, I was worried that my plan wouldn't work, but judging by how much more varied her facial expressions were during the fight with the hydra in comparison to the day before, it seems as though my idea was spot on. Unfortunately, cutting my soul apart seems to have some pretty harsh consequences.

I take a deep breath and clench my teeth, preparing myself mentally. Then, as quickly as I can, I control the separate portion of ether and use it to envelope and dig out a chunk of my soul. Instantly, the tearing agony from ripping apart my soul drives me to my knees. This time, the pain is far worse than any time before, unexpectedly so, and I'm unable to choke down my screams. Through the red hot haze of anguish that covers my vision and pulses through my ears, I can barely hear Quina's panicked pleading. However, her voice is joined by a second, girlish voice. This second voice converses with Quina for a few moments before approaching me.

"Ser Arisen, what in the world are you doing?" The second voice says, tinted with equal parts astonishment, worry, and confusion. "Why would you purposely tear apart your own soul? Don't you know that can disperse your personality and kill you?"

"Need to… help Reina... " I barely manage to grunt through clenched teeth. My consciousness is fuzzy at best, but I cling to it just well enough to keep myself from blacking out.

"Huh? Reina?" The voice asks, puzzled. "Are you Reina?"

"No, I'm not, Reina is his pawn." Quina says. Whoever was speaking must have turned to talk to her after hearing what I had said.

"His pawn? Ser Arisen, are you… trying to liberate your pawn?" The voice asks excitedly.

Liberate my pawn? What? I try to open my mouth to answer the voice, but a second wave of searing pain rips through my body and all that comes out is a low groan. At this point, I'm starting to get pretty worried. I should have waited for my soul to fully recover before trying to tear off another piece of it, but souls take a very long time to heal. I didn't want to wait that long, or keep Reina waiting that long.

Suddenly, the ground starts shaking violently beneath us, prompting shocked screams from the two girls. I struggle to raise my head through the pain, and find myself staring directly at a young girl who I assume, based off her robes and staff, to be the witch after whom the Witchwood is named. Her pale, frightened face and wide eyes give me a better impression of how serious the situation is. She looks completely terrified.

"Ser Arisen, you have to leave! I… I will try to help you, but you can not stay here right now, lest the dragon notices this place's existence! Take this." The girl shoves a strange stone tablet into my hand, then places her palm onto my back. "This will let me summon you when everything is safe."

She turns and places her other palm on Quina, then mutters a complicated chant under her breath. Only when her hands are shining with blinding magic does she fix her eyes on me again. "I will teleport you out. Remember, you can not return to the Witchwood until the dragon hibernates. I wish you luck, Ser Arisen." Before I can even think about responding, my vision flashes a blindingly bright white. Unfortunately, that sends yet another wave of agony flooding through my body. With no way to make it stop, I do the only thing that comes to mind and curl into a ball. I just have to wait this out.

Luckily, it only lasts a few more minutes before quietly receding. Once I'm able to think coherently again, I finally manage to open my eyes and force my way into a sitting position. My surroundings are completely different to what they were only a few minutes ago, completely lacking in fog or spooky looking trees. Instead, the bright light of the late-morning sun peeks over the walls of the Encampment and falls lightly on my face. I'm almost convinced I'm hallucinating from the pain until I see Quina's slender back a few feet away.

"Hey, what happened? I'm not gonna lie, I have no idea what was going on at the end there." I look down at the small, palm sized stone tablet resting in my hand. "That was the witch at the end there, right? Did she say anything to you?"

"No, not really. She just ran out of the fog right after you fell over. I think she was watching us the whole time we were in there." Quina seems kind of subdued compared to normal, and she's definitely avoiding my gaze. I scratch my head a few times, figuring out whether or not to try and get more information out of her about what had happened, but end up deciding against it. From what the witch said, she would contact me in the future through this… rock. It doesn't seem to be special in any way, but who am I to judge? Maybe it's a special magic rock for witches.

Or maybe it's just a rock. I put it into my belt pouch for later and put all matters with the witch out of my mind. It's not like I went to the witchwood to find the witch anyways; I went there to keep Quina safe.

"Quina, is something wrong?" I ask her when I realize that she's still avoiding my gaze. I scoot over to try and sit face to face with her, but she just turns even further away.

"...I thought you just promised me you weren't going to die." I can't help but wince slightly at how dull and emotionless she sounds. Any time she talks like this, it means that she's completely infuriated. Normally, I probably would respond to her with a line such as 'do I really look that bad, that you think I'm dead?', but I can't say I blame her for being upset. If there had been any goblins or monsters that found us while I was laid out, we probably would have been eaten, and the only person to blame for that is myself. I should have waited until we were completely safe to try and separate my soul again.

"Sorry, I wasn't thinking clearly," I mutter, scratching my head. "I won't let that happen again."

Quina stays silent for a few long seconds, then turns and locks eyes with me, her expression dead serious. "I want to come with you." She holds up her hand to stifle my immediate rejection. "Kang, I know I'll just hold you back when you have to fight, so I don't want to follow you around all the time. I just want to go with you to Gran Soren. Even if I can't fight, I can at least help gather information for you, or something. You know how good I am at that."

She's not wrong. Quina has always seemed to know everything about what was going on in Cassardis, and many of her 'adventures' were started from some interesting tidbit she picked up by keeping her ears open. Having her to help keep me informed about the going ons of the kingdom could be very, very useful.

I start thinking things over seriously. Information gathering has never been my strong point, and I get the distinct feeling that none of my pawns will be all that good at it either. Reina is far too standoffish, Rook is preoccupied, and Sylvie is… well, she's Sylvie. When I try to imagine Sylvie running around Gran Soren alone, a cold sweat runs down my spine. How much money would I have to pay for everything she would break?

"Please help me." I reach out and grab Quina's shoulders, now completely determined to bring her with me. It's not like she'll be in any danger in Gran Soren anyways. In fact, with how many monsters are running around recently, she might even be safer there than she would be in Cassardis.

"I- oh. Wow. I didn't think you would agree that easily." Quina blinks a few times in surprise.

"Yeah, after thinking it over, I really could use your help," I say. "But you're staying in the city except for when I'm with you. If you start running around like you do in Cassardis, I'm not letting you stay."

"Alright, I can do that." Quina smiles at me, then rises to her feet. "So, where's Reina and the rest of your team? I didn't really get to meet them back at Cassardis."

The blood drains from my face when I look around at the nearly empty Encampment, then at the position of the sun. Judging by how high the sun is, it's probably close to noon, and Mercedes had said that she wanted to leave at daybreak.

I am very, very late.


End file.
